Erik: Hopeful Soul
by CLASSICDUH
Summary: We follow Erik since early childhood to uncover his dark side and why he stays secluded from humanity. That is, until he discovers someone who may truly give him a chance at love.
1. Poor Babe

**Erik: Hopeful Soul ~ Chapter One**

Walking down the street with her three-year-old was Madeleine, a woman of twenty-five whom felt cursed since her husband had passed. She was your average French beauty; chocolate colored hair and bright blue eyes, but she had barely a heart. Her boy, someone tall for his age with a white cloth covering his head, struggled along begging, "I don't want to go!"

Madeleine insisted, pulling him along while he tried hard to get away. She knew he needed better, but had no choice in the matter seeing as no one would take him. His fate, cruel and unforgiving, would be one to last him a lifetime.

The horizon stretched onward, the air unbearable with humidity, and Madeleine still dragged her boy forward. He dug his heels into the ground at a point, ceasing their path for a moment. Until she carried him, that was. Heavy as he might have been, she still made it in time for the special 'selling'; which was an event to give the Persian circus a star who might later on be the main attraction, giving the winner tons of money.

Their arrival, welcomed by the circus guards, had been happily anticipated. Madeleine, still holding her boy, was being directed into the circus master's tent where the selling would be held. Everyone had already begin their introductions by the time she finished the line, leaving the master frustrated at yet another entry. He pulled over one of his men, whispering something in Persian, then turned gladly to Madeleine, "I have zero patience for last minute entries. But I do need a main attraction. Introduce your subject."

Madeleine froze for a minute to collect her thoughts, reminding herself that this was the only way Erik would be safe - or at least off the streets, "Well, his name is Erik. He is three years old. He has musical abilities and," she took a deep breath and thought about what she was about to put her son through, reminding herself not to think about it. She threw his white sheet to the ground, which exposed a deformity so hideous that even the other contestants fainted, "has been cursed with a disgusting deformity."

The master was speechless, having seen nothing like him ever, "My name is Javert. I will give you as much money as you want. Just let me have this," he, no less than a foot away from Erik now, touched his rugged deformity, "perfect specimen of a freak."

Madeleine stared at Erik for a moment, turning away from him in disgust. His deformity had turned even her affection away, the affection of his own mother, "I don't need any money. I just want him out of my hands."

"I would be happy to oblige," Madeleine shoved Erik to Javert, taking a step back to see the scared look on his hideous face.

"These are his birth papers. His baptism certificate. Everything is in this folder," the folder she handed Javert, covered in dust, had been obviously beaten around, making Erik feel useless about himself. Madeleine would have felt sorry for him, had he not been so hideous, "Erik, you stay put. Mama will be gone for a long time."

Erik knew his mother wasn't coming back for him so he had no choice to either wait until he died or until the master died. Javert grabbed Erik by the wrist and led him through the tents. Erik looked around hopefully, seeing if, maybe, just someone would show him kindness, but to no avail. The children were just as mean as his neighborhood children; spitting at him, calling him profane names, some even pretending to gag at him.

Erik, shocked at the force with which he was thrown to the ground, stared up at Javert in hopeless submission, "I don't know how your mother treats you at home, but here, you are nothing more than a slave. You will work every night to entertain the crowd and do precisely what I say. If you do not, there will be serious consequences that even I, sometimes, would not wish upon the likes of you. However, sympathy is not in my rule book. I want full control of you and will do anything and everything to get it. Do you understand?"

Erik nodded, even though he hadn't the slightest idea what type of stuff would happen if he disobeyed. Javert had on this mousy smile, ecstatic at the idea of his new working death boy. Erik had seen this look before, slouching down to shorten himself and appear as harmless as possible. Each of them stared at each other, making the other uncomfortable until Javert decided it was time for Erik to get locked into his new cage.

Erik searched through his pants pocket and pulled out his baby blanket to keep his legs warm. A few minutes later, he observed that the ground started to moving and found a window behind him; this was a traveling circus, he discovered within minutes. The other cages, he found, had other children in them without noticeable deformities. The others seemed relatively normal compared to him, except for one who was close with one of her arms gone and an eye missing.

Erik found a shard of glass on the ground and started playing with it, rubbing each smooth edge until he pricked himself on one of the corners. As usual, he did not cry, he just watched the blood seep out of his finger with interest. He dripped blood onto the glass shard and examined the red, warm fluid by shining the glass under the sunset. His blood, because of the humidity, quickly dried onto the glass shard and Erik had to set it down.

The child in the cage next to him began to stare and Erik had just noticed this. He had an eye patch covering his left eye and Erik felt sorry for his burden, even though the child seemed to be more harm than good. The other boy, with a raspy voice, spoke to him, which was rare, "What is your name?"

Erik didn't know why he talked back, but he figured that he might as well since this appeared to be one of the nicest conversations he might ever have, "Erik."

"Erik?" The other boy reached into his pocket and pulled out a slice of stolen bread, still wrapped in paper, "Why are you so hideous?"

Erik had no words. He never knew why he was so ugly, but he had speculations. Maybe God hated him, maybe his mother tried to get rid of him and somehow cursed his appearance. He didn't know and, hence, couldn't respond to his question, "I don't know. My mother once said she tried everything to get rid of me before I was born. She said she didn't want to give birth to a...to a..."

"Bastard? You have no papa, don't you?"

"My papa died in an accident."

Erik didn't know the accident, exactly; he only knew the aftermath of what happened which was his birth and his mothers complete hatred, "I heard your age. Three? That's tough. She must really hate you. I don't even know you and I already do," Erik felt tears start to form, but he held off as long as possible by putting his chin between his knees and just taking deep breaths, "Oh, what's the matter? Baby going to cry for mama? Well guess what, mama doesn't love you. Never has and never will."

Erik turned away from the boy to cry in peace, except the exact opposite happened. Something hard and sharp had hit him in the back, leaving a stinging sensation in his right chest cavity. Erik touched his back, but found nothing there. He shook his head and realized the pain was only him - then making himself breath deeper to stop shaking.

More than anything in the world, he wanted comfort and someone to hold onto. Sadly, he knew, it would never come. For he would be forever alone in a world of darkness and hatred.


	2. Pain

**A/N: Well, it seems like things are going great so far and everyone's loving it. That's pleasing. If you don't mind, which I know you won't, I would like as many reviews possible so that we can all have a good experience with this story. Hope it isn't too much to ask. Thank you very much.**

 **Erik: Hopeless Soul**

 **Chapter Two**

The train pounded mercilessly along the tracks, moonlight shining through faint cracks in the floorboards. The caged children were sleeping, all except Erik; who stared out the window at the view passing by. Small houses were off in the distance, all with brown shingles and beige walls. He noticed a brilliant sound, one that was sharp and distinct, and saw a gentleman in tattered clothing playing an accordion. Erik smiled, missing the old piano in his bedroom.

The train bumped up again, shaking the children's cages and breaking a few glass bottles outside of their reach. Erik stared at the glass again, but turned his attention back to the window to experience the beauty of night. Nighttime was always a time when he could be free and do what he pleased without being judged or looked at.

He discovered a latch on the window frame and pried it apart, the gust of warm wind a surprise to his cool face. He smiled at the warmth and peeked out the window that was just small enough to fit his head into. Erik gazed at the sights of the city; the moonlit river, the beautiful baroque buildings, and the crowd of people waiting outside a tent. Erik had a bad feeling about the tent, closing his window and pretending like nothing happened.

He felt a jolt in the train and it no longer moved. It was then that the circus began.

The door to the cage caravan slammed into one of the cages, making the child wake up. Erik stared innocently into space as the gypsy men and women started opening cages and shackling children. He saw Javert above him, then cowered into a ball as he called one of his men, "You have the sack yet?"

"Of course, master," Erik saw the gypsy man hand Javert a brown bag, then realized what was about to happen.

"Get over here, you bastard," Erik shivered at the word, but obeyed with fear of what would happen if he didn't, "Good boy," Javert tied the sack around Erik's head.

Though he couldn't see anything, Erik still heard clinking metal and knew he was going to be shackled. The cold bars around his ankles reminded him of a freezing winter night in the attic at home. There was tension on the shackles and he moved with everyone else, blindly, towards a loud noise. Tension loosened on the shackles slowly as each 'act' was being performed.

Erik waited patiently, or at least anxiously, as he knew he would soon be on the ring. The cold metal was removed from his ankles and he felt Javert's hot, sweaty hand pull him up into an area where the floor was covered with hay. There was chatter, "What you have all been waiting for, ladies and gentlemen. Come and see the Devil's child! You won't believe your eyes! Your wives will swoon at the sight! Your children will laugh and point! And you, messieurs, will have a feast for your eyes! Come and see the Devil's child!"

Javert's sweaty hands had moved upward towards Erik's neck, beginning to untie the sack. The audience was anticipating something small and insignificant, but that was where they were wrong. The bag hid Erik's hideousness for a few moments but now, being exposed as he was, no one knew how to react. That was, until someone began to laugh.

Erik noticed not only the laughter, but someone starting to throw things at him. He was hit in the head with rotten food, empty wrappers, and broken bottles until Javert put a stop to things by reasoning with the crowd, "Alright, alright. I've got a present for him. Does anyone want to see it?"

There were nods from the crowd and Erik thought for once that maybe he was being shown mercy. He was completely wrong. Javert received a whip from one of his men and Erik, not knowing what it was or how it worked, just stood there blank-faced. The crowd began laughing and he knew something wasn't right.

Erik dived into a corner, but he was pulled out forcefully, being whipped twice in the back. The sting was so much that he couldn't move at all, let alone cry. When he regained his senses he stood up only to be struck down by the whip three times. He gasped on the last strike, letting tears fall down his cheeks. Javert saw him crying and, for that, turned Erik onto his back and struck him twice on his belly.

The pain was surreal and Erik, not knowing what to do or who to yearn for, just took it. He bit his lip to stop crying, but just couldn't stop due to the immense pain. The whip struck him one more time, making his blood splatter onto the hay surrounding his body. Erik whimpered from the last one as his master yelled, "Get up, you filth!" Erik stood, afraid about what would happen if he didn't, and interlocked his fingers to keep himself straight and out of harms way, "Ladies and gentlemen, the Devil's child."

Erik stranded a crowd of laughter as he was shackled to the other children and drug to the caravans once again. A girl, in similar shape to him, spoke softly so that the master wouldn't hear her, "I saw you out there. You're brave to stand up like that. He usually does really bad things to children who get up."

"What kind of things?"

"Well, I heard there was a boy, a real big one, that thought he could escape the caravans. Next day, all the children found him lying dead on the grass with a stick up his bum."

The girls row was being pulled into a separate caravan and Erik, still with questions, was left alone for what could have been a bad situation to come. He followed the others through the caravan, watching as each of them were locked into their cages. Just before Erik's cage was locked, with his shackles now off, Javert stormed in and, very loudly, said, "Boy, when I beat you, you don't stand up. You hear me?!"

Erik only nodded, knowing no other way to respond to the situation, "Good. Now don't you dare move ever again or there will be more serious consequences to pay."

The cage door, slammed and locked, resembled the outer world to Erik. A world in which he was banned from and would never be allowed to experience because of only his face. All light sources disappeared, leaving him in the dark which was his comfort. He found his baby blanket bundled up in a corner and reached for it for comfort. He grinned, remembering it was possibly the only loving thing he ever received.

Looking out the window, he saw the moon at its height - shining brightly among the stars. He mapped out constellations, smiling at each one. He felt like the constellations were some of his close friends and that, maybe, he could be one of them one day. The beautiful diamonds in the sky that every loves a looks up to. Erik hoped that one day he could be that special to someone - that someone would plea to him for help instead of vice-versa.


	3. Strange Affections

**A/N: Thank you all for supporting my writing. I am sure you will find the next chapter...interesting.**

 **Chapter Three - Strange Affection**

Erik woke up just in time to see the sun rise, clothing him in warmth. He shoved the blanket to the corner and opened the window a bit to smell the fresh air. To his left, he saw a bunch of tents set up with dozens of people going in and out, although these weren't audience members because the looked just like the adults in charge of the train.

He closed the window fast and laid down to pretend he was sleeping. When the train jerked to a stop, the other children woke up fast and appeared jostled by their surroundings. It was as if they had all had their hearts taken out and replaced with rocks.

The doors on either end of the caravan opened with a crash and the adults, plus other from the tent Erik had seen, came in and just looked at each of the children. Erik cowered into a corner when he saw one of them was carrying a whip, which brought back bad memories. Javert, now a drunken fool, yelled, "Alright. Pick any child you want to be your entertainment for tonight, but the ugly boy is mine."

Erik knew he was the ugly boy and he put his head between his knees to hide himself from more ridicule or pain. He heard cage doors open and close and this time, for once, he never wanted to leave his cage. He looked up and saw the drunken Javert clumsily unlocking his cage. This made him very nervous, thinking about what it meant to be 'entertainment'.

He saw the other children, all of which were being carried to separate tents holding a gypsy couple - a man and a woman. Erik thought that no woman could possibly be dumb enough to join Javert, but he was entirely wrong. When Javert threw Erik over his shoulder, he noticed a woman with a red scarf wrapped around her head. She was possibly the strangest woman Erik had ever seen, "You picked a weak one, Javert. What's wrong with you?"

"He's stronger than he seems. Believe me. He stood up after being whipped last week."

"Amazing. So is he...you know?"

"Yes he is. I can tell by just carrying him."

Erik started to fade from the conversation and he wondered what they were trying to say about him. Javert could tell whatever it was just by carrying him, but he still had no idea.

With the conversation far from his mind now, Erik stared at the tent they were going towards, which had a gypsy man on either side of it. He was set inside the tent by Javert, but could barely see anything because there was no space in the cloth for sunlight to go through. Erik heard a match, then two gas lamps lit up the tent so he could see his surroundings. Javert came into the tent with the woman and they started going through two piles in the corner.

Erik saw the opening to the tent shake and then a gypsy man bursted in, panting and hot, "Thank you so much Javert. The red haired girl was amazing. So tight."

"Any time. Wait, Darius! Do you know how to arouse the young lad?"

"Well at an age so young, I don't think you can. You'll have to be the one taking him."

"Well what about Marri?"

"I guess she won't be having any fun. Marri, do you want to come with me? There's another man in my tent for you."

Erik was entirely confused as the woman and man left the tent, making it just him and Javert. He gulped, knowing Javert would cause him pain in someway. Whether it be lashing, slapping, or just talking - it would hurt him someway. Javert had reached behind Erik for something that was inside a pound. The object he pulled out was small, compared to the whip, and had a leather item on the end of it which was thick.

Javert twisted and pulled this thing with delight, making Erik's very soul sink to the depths of the Earth, "Do you know what this is, my boy?"

"N-no."

Javert belted a menacing laugh and slapped the end of it into his palm, "It's called a riding crop. And it will be used if you do not stay in your place. Now, divest yourself."

"What?"

"Go on, boy! Take off your-"

"Javert," just before there was time for Javert to finish his entertainment, a gypsy man had bursted in with news concerning deep matters.

"Oh, what is it now, Abdul?! Can't you see I'm busy!?"

"I'm deeply sorry, Javert. But there are Frenchmen around. If they see this, who knows what will happen to our act."

"Damn, damn, damn," Javert put the rod and crop back into the bag, "The others are ready?"

"Been ready, sir. I made sure of it."

"Alright. Come on, brat! You're going back to the cage."

Erik was thrilled and he ran towards the caravan so he could finally get away from Javert, the best thing in the world to do.


	4. Insanity and Safety

**A/N: Yeah, that other chapter was weird. But here's where it gets even stranger.**

 **Chapter Four - Insanity and Safety**

Erik didn't think anything in the world could affect when he was in his cage. But wrong, he was - oh so wrong.

He was in his cage that day listening to the gypsy men having a conversation, something which was uncommon to do among the children. They were digging through papers, which he realized by hearing crinkles and cracks, and talking about each of the children's best qualities. They were supposed to be asleep, but Erik was the exception - mostly because of his desire for constant fills of information.

He heard Javert's voice after someone had thrown a paper and inhaled fresh air from the window as he listened, "Hey, you know that ugly boy with the black hair?"

"Yes?"

"Turns out it's his seventh birthday today. Ha! We've kept the brat four years he doesn't even know! He'll be devastated when he finds out his mom's not coming back."

It was no surprise to Erik that his mother wasn't coming back, but to be denied the day of his birth - that devastated him more than his mother. More than Javert, even.

Just then, Erik heard footsteps start to approach his cage, footsteps that crunched the straw loudly with no space in between. He saw two dirty, brown boots and realized Javert was the one creating the racket as he opened Erik's cage. Erik cowered to the corner as Javert came in, frightened by the possibility of what would happen to him, "Relax, you buffoon! I'm not going to hurt you too bad."

Erik gulped as Javert stroked his hair, which made him extremely nervous. Javert gave a toothless grin and whispered, "For an ugly faced boy, you've got a pretty nice body. Course, if you had a little muscle on you that'd be better."

Erik just stared at him with speechlessness, except he tried his hardest not to retort with something that might get him in trouble. Javert had his hand laid on Erik's shoulder as he tried to slowly get rid of his shirt. Erik, now shirtless, sat there frozen and with a loss of words. He didn't know how to react because he had never been in this particular situation before. It was strange, to say the least, how Javert wanted to unclothe him.

Erik kicked around when Javert tried removing his trousers, until he pulled the riding crop out of his vest. Javert used the crop to whip Erik's thigh, which made him unable to resist. Erik sighed and did exactly as Javert made him, bowing in the opposite direction on his hands and knees. He saw rope and, waiting for the torture to begin, started to play with it by tying it in knots. By this time, the other children woke up and he felt a horrible pinch inside of him as Javert's hands rested on his waist.

Erik started tying the rope faster into knots out of nervousy and tested the tension on a stick. The tension crushed the stick in half and Erik, filled to the brim with anger and frustration, wrapped the rope around Javert's neck to see if it would end him the same way as it crushed the stick. Javert tried to fight back, but Erik had enough, using all of his strength to pull the rope tighter and tighter until he heard a loud crunch and Javert fell to the floor with a thud.

The other children stared at him and there was a gypsy man who came to find out what was causing the noise. Erik came out of his blackout to see what happened and found his hands around a rope that had suffocated Javert. Erik took a deep breath, thought about what he should take, then rushed for the exit of the moving caravan. He found the papers they were going through and stole his as other gypsy men tried to swing at him with a whip.

Erik was struck once in the back and the man holding the whip had tripped and let go of his instrument of torture. Erik grinned devilishly and picked up the whip for revenge when, again, he blacked out. He swung the whip several times upon the man's back, but the last one would be deadly. When Erik finally released the whip and came to sanity, he saw blood on the man's back and panicked, collecting his papers.

He ran towards the exit of the moving train and saw, underneath the tracks, a river streaming forever. Other gypsy men started coming at him with other torture implements and he thought nothing before he jumped into the river to safety. He seemed to fall forever until he struck a rock and hit the water with a thud. He felt stuck under the tight rapids, swirling further and further downstream until he was thrusted onto a large rock in the middle of it all.

Erik chocked and coughed on the water, still holding his papers for dear life, until he saw an opportunity to take a canoe. He swam towards the little canoe and made sure that no one was looking as he untied it from the post and hopped inside. Erik set the papers inside the canoe and used picked up one of the paddles to help row himself further downstream. It wasn't until water splashed on his nether regions that he realized he was still naked. He didn't care, though, because he was finally getting away.

Erik knew he could finally breathe knowing he would never be in the camps again. He looked onward and saw the sun start to rise, setting down his paddle so the canoe would just take him where the water was going. The rapids slowed down a bit and he looked side to side at the beautiful forest he was floating through. He rubbed water over himself to get rid of the grimly feeling Javert's hands left on him.

He laid down and breathed deeply as his heard the music of the forest; bird calls, moving water, gentle howls, whoops and whoa's. The canoe struck against a boulder and he no choice but to gather his papers and go into the woods. The animal noises died down as he walked into the bushes and noticed a large deer, who stared at him like a mother would at her child. The deer approached Erik and sniffed his face, then rubbed gently against his back. Erik smiled at this, the kindness and purity of the animals.

He followed the deer into a grove of flowers where her calves frolicked around happily. Even though he still had the papers, he was excepted among the deer as a person of honor. It would have been strange, but he loved the furry creatures so much that it didn't matter how odd it was.


	5. Persia

**Chapter Five - Persia**

Erik plucked strawberries from a strawberry patch where a bunch of doves were lolly gagging about. He had with him a small, makeshift bowl out of leaves where he held the berries and his papers, which he placed underneath. His genitalia was covered with a type of shawl and he smiled, thinking about taking the opportunity of this cloudy to walk into the city seemed about a mile away from the woods.

He took his papers and the bowl of strawberries and walked towards the town, where he heard the noise of a festival. He saw boys about his age smiling and playing a game with stones and girls his age, with their faces covered by strange cloth, playing with dolls. The aroma of smoked meat filled the air and Erik, hungry, started to eat his strawberries. He finally reached the city and caught some attention, not negative or positive.

He ate the last berry and set down the bowl, continuing further into the city where he earned a few discouraging laughs. He put his head down until he bumped into a tall gentleman clothed in silky attire, making everyone around gasp. There were whispers and Erik, about to run away, was grabbed by the wrist, "Relax, boy. I won't hurt you."

Erik didn't trust him. Whenever he heard that, he was always beaten and shamed. He tried his best to get away, but the man insisted, "Boy, don't be scared. What's your name?"

"E-E-Erik."

The man smiled and knelt down to his level, "How old are you, Erik?"

Erik found himself unable to speak and he handed the man his papers, which had all of his information on it - including his skills and passions. He watched the man read over it and, when he stopped reading for some reason, he stared at Erik with a sincere smile, "Would you like to come with me? I have a bed and a feast for you. The shah will be very happy with you."

Erik didn't know what to say. The man seemed trustworthy, but his fright overpowered any good vibes he had. He nodded anyway, thinking that a place to sleep and a feast might do him good.

The gentleman led him towards this large building, a building Erik had never seen anything like, and two men dressed from head to toe in black stepped aside for the silk-clothed gentleman. Erik heard whispers around him and a man, who wore golden robes, greeted him proudly. He carried a large staff with the head of a boar and took Erik from the other man into the large building.

Erik saw other boys sitting at a big table and figured it was a party of some sort. He had chair waiting for him and he sat at the table with the other boys who were also, in some way, impaired. He was given a plate of potatoes, roasted meat, and green vegetables like the other boys. He noted everyone else was eating and he started to eat with them as the man in golden robes sat at the head of the table. He had a deep, inviting voice that Erik found very kind.

"You boys have been invited to my court because you are all gifted designers. After your feast each of you will be led into a chamber where you have to face a challenge. One that will require you to use your skills quickly and creatively with the tools you'll be given," the boys all smiled and paid very close attention to him, "The winner will be the one who comes out alive and the least unharmed. And it won't be as easy as you think. So enjoy, possibly, your last meal."

The man in golden robes, Erik found out from the whispering boys, was the shah of Persia. Erik had always been interested in Persian design, but thought he would never have the opportunity to travel to Persia. He smiled and finished the last bit of meat on his plate, now full of the delicious food and planning for his challenge.

There were eight sets of doors, one for each boy, and everyone headed towards a door with their name placard on it. Erik headed towards his door and looked at the tools he was offered: a rope, an iron bar, and a whip. His door slammed down and the ceiling seemed to disappear and an arena was created. The shah was on booth with two men in black cloaks and he declared, "Ladies and gentlemen, the arena! The boy who wins will be the new designer for the maze of death!"

The crowd cheered loudly and Erik looked at the tools he was offered, trying to figure out the challenge, "Round one, the hungry lions!"

At the end of his chamber, a large door rose open and Erik saw the mane of a lion, one of the most beautiful creatures he ever saw. Sadly, he knew the goal was to survive and kill the beast. He tied the iron bar to the rope and used the whip to summon the big cat, who growled deeply in response to the noise and the cat rushed for him Erik swung the rope upward and the iron bar hit the cat in the head, causing a big crunching noise.

He heard cheers and the shah announced, "There are four boys who survived! Alright, round two! Each boy must climb to the top of their greased pole," Erik looked up at a tall, wood post in the center of his chamber, "while fighting off the ravens."

A swarm of ravens was at the top of the pole and new tools were set beside it, each of which he tested for stickiness. Gloves and socks made of frog skin and the spear were what he chose as his tools. He slowly approached the top, getting pecked by the ravens mercilessly. He hit them away with his spear and, once he was at the top, saw a walkway leading to a beautiful little girl, "There are two contestants standing!"

The girl came up to Erik and kissed him gently on the lips, gave him a hug, and went back to her place. Erik was mesmerized by her beauty and saw, at the bottom of his feet, a bow and arrow, "Final round! Each boy must look as he kills the girl who just kissed him. First to kill stays alive!"

Erik picked up the bow and arrow, aiming at the girls chest as she cried. He felt really worthless doing this, but pulled hard anyway and shot her through the heart. She fell off the platform and thudded on the ground and Erik, saddened by what he did, saw the other boy fall with an arrow in his chest. The crowd cheered with joy as Erik was carried towards the booth with the royal gentlemen. Sure he was being cheered, but it wasn't worth killing the most beautiful things in the world.

He looked down as the arena was being swept clean and the iron chambers were being converted into walls once again. The shah put his hand on Erik's shoulder and sighed, "Well done, my boy."


	6. A Friend

**Chapter Six - A Friend**

Erik was in luxury the day after all of the challenges. He was being bathed in the finest tub money could buy, had slave women who made him clothing and had an office where he would work hard until his fingers bled. He watched as one of the youngest women, a girl of about twelve, started the layout of a sort of mask. He was always intrigued by masks and viewed as nothing more then artwork, something to be admired, but now that he was going to wear one it baffled him.

Erik stepped out of the tub and was wrapped in a large, warm towel. He watched the gentleman who bathed him walk out with the tub of water and, eventually, he was being dressed by the women. The youngest girl finished his attire by placing the mask on his face, "I figured you'd be more comfortable if no one had to judge you."

Erik smiled and walked towards his new office to see the shah preparing large outlining sheets where he would develop his work. Erik noticed the man who had brought him to courts and bowed respectfully to him. The shah smiled and patted Erik on the back, "This man's name is Nadir. He will provide you with anything you need. Extra papers, food, inspiration. Anything."

As the shah left, Erik carefully examined Nadir and saw that he had scars all the way up his arm. He sighed, then sat down in his comfortable chair, "How old are you, Nadir?"

"I am fifteen years old. Been with the shah since I was your age. By the way, the scars on my arm...that's what happens when you mess up."

"Mess up?"

"When you get out of hand. I fell in love with one of the shah's women and he punished me for it harshly. I suggest you leave the women alone."

Erik knew there had to be something wrong with the shah, but he kept his mouth shut anyways. He started drawing on the outlining paper, but was confused about the theme, "What did the shah say I was making, again?"

"You have to make death chamber. He's going to use it for the criminals in the village."

Erik started drawing again, which impressed Nadir very much. He had seen work from the other boys, but none of them compared to Erik. Erik had a careful hand, so steady indeed that it seemed like he was a man of thirty instead of a boy of seven. Nadir watched as he let his imagination flow, drawing glass panels and wooden traps and heat waves - it was so clever. Erik stopped for a minute, then asked, "Why can't he just execute them? Why does he have to torture them?"

"I don't know. I think the shah has something wrong with him. Ever since his brother killed his favorite wife he's been sort of insane. He likes to see criminals suffer."

Erik nodded, then added extra things to his drawing, "I just don't understand why people are so cruel."

"You've been through a lot, haven't you?"

Erik nodded, "I may be young, but I have experience. I've understood the basics of human nature since I was three. I've been drawing since I've learned my first word. I've been a passionate musician since I've discovered my singing capabilities."

"You're a musician?"

"Yes. Why?"

"It didn't say that on your papers."

Erik frowned, "My mother wrote those papers. She said my singing would cause people to go to hell from sinning."

"Sinning?"

"That I make people do...certain things."

"Oh."

Erik set down his pencil and stretched backwards in his chair, admiring the Persian rug at his feet, "You're nice, Nadir. I haven't met anyone this willing to just sit and talk with me. I wish people weren't so shallow."

"I think you're misunderstood. You just need a good friend."

Erik thought back to the people he killed: Javert, Estabaun (one of Javert's men) and the little girl who kissed him on the lips. He sighed, "Misunderstood is probably not the word I'd use."

"Why's that?"

"I've killed people. Three, to be exact."

"I'm sure you had good reason."

"Humph. Good reason, indeed."

The shah came in unannounced to check on Erik's progress, which he gasped at in admiration, "What magnificence! This is amazing! Adam!" a man who wore tools rushed in and examined Erik's design carefully, touching each of the lines and measurements, "Do you think this will work?"

"Sure. I can do it."

"Ah! Perfect! Erik, would you mind operating once he's finished?"

"Not at all."

"Yes! How long will it take, Adam?"

"Probably a year or two, at most."

"Excellent!"

They went out just as fast as they came in and Nadir and Erik, completely confused, just stared at each other. Erik grinned, then took off his mask and felt the grooves on the inside which matched the sharp edges of his face. He looked at Nadir and asked, "Why weren't you disgusted when you first saw me? Usually people just shove me away and move along."

"I thought you might be important. Turns out you really are."


	7. Discovered Emotions

**Chapter Seven - Discovered Emotions**

Erik woke up in his bed the next morning and watched a girl scurry out of the room. He heard the words he's awake and then other women rushed in with a tray of food which was set at the end of his bed. They bowed to him and rushed out of the room as he gazed at them with wonder. Erik still couldn't understand why he was being treated like royalty for drawing. He bent over, slid the tray towards himself, and began to eat the delicious food prepared by the ladies.

The shah, with a grin on his face, entered Erik's bedroom and watched calmly as he ate, "Are you enjoying your food?" Erik nodded and continued to eat, which was something he rarely got to do, "I'm glad. Your death chamber is moving quite fast. In fact, it may be done in less than a year."

Erik finished what he was chewing, then thought. He honestly didn't want to be responsible for killing people with that device, but what other choice did he have? It was either this or be captured by the gypsies again and that was something he did not want to go through, "That's fantastic."

Sadly, killing gave him quite a bit of pleasure. He knew he would never be responsible for bringing on life seeing as no soul on earth would want to father his child. So, in a way, it felt the same to bring death as it did to bring life.

Erik finished his food and stepped out of bed to notice his sudden growth spurt. He knew most boys weren't supposed to grow until they were twelve, but apparently he was an exception. Even the shah had noticed, "My, you've grown, haven't you? I guess the ladies will have to start making more clothes for you."

Erik laughed, then stared out the window at the early morning sky, which he thought was a beautiful sight. He saw, beneath a tree, a young girl who was writing in a small book. He had a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach as he watched the pretty girl just write away. The shah had noticed what Erik looked at and he laughed, "Aren't you a little young to be watching girls?"

"I-"

"Oh, it's nothing serious. I really started looking when I was six so I guess it's not that bad."

The shah patted Erik on the back as he continued to stare at the girl who had just realized she was being watched. She looked at Erik, but before she could catch his eye he had turned around. He felt frightened whenever a girl looked at him like that - like a regular person. He remembered being told by Javert a few times that no woman would ever look at him with compassion. Erik always thought he was right.

He knelt down and searched in his drawers for something comfortable to wear, since he would be going out into town with Nadir. He pulled these long robes and draped them over his bed as he removed his pajamas. Looking outside, he saw the girl again sitting with another boy and he knew she didn't really care for Erik - like always.

Erik put on his robes, slipped on his brown shoes, and went out of his room to see Nadir waiting patiently in the hallway. He smiled when Erik came out and asked, "Are you ready to go?"

"Yes. Nadir?"

"What is it?"

"Where are we going?"

"Well, since it is almost your eighth birthday, I figured we might as well have some fun. It must be awfully boring for someone your age to sit in an office all day."

Erik followed Nadir out of the courts and into the city, where a children's festival went on. Nadir helped Erik join the other children, since he knew he was extremely shy among children his age, and they played with the boys who were playing hopscotch with stones. Erik was having the most fun ever in about the eleven months he's been here. He knew that things would turn sour at some point, though. That someday he would be told to adjourn all fun things in his life.


	8. Older and Insane

**Chapter Eight - Older and Insane**

Erik hated his work with a passion. He shamed himself deeply for creating something so villainous and vile. There were others who hated it as well; others such as families of the victims, the criminals themselves, and most especially the cemetery, who was running out of business due to the invention.

Erik would have to do the dirty work again. Today he was in charge of killing a rapist who had touched one of the shahs most precious women. Crowds of people would come to watch Erik kill the people with his chamber of death or, as he liked to call it, La Faucille de la Mort.

He pulled down on a large lever which opened the entrance to the chamber so the victim could enter. When the criminal was inside, Erik closed the entrance so there was no escape and put on one-sided glass; making the audience able to see the criminal, but the criminal unable to see the audience. Erik ran towards a pulley on the edge of the chamber that released bursts of hot air, making it very hot and uncomfortable inside the chamber.

Everyone could hear his screams and Erik, depressed by the frequency and volume of the man's screaming, created the water illusion. The criminal went completely insane trying to get some of the fake water and everyone in the audience started to laugh. Erik was getting tired of all the noise and he screamed aloud, covering his ears to eliminate everyone's sounds. He cried and screamed till his throat hurt and Nadir, feeling completely wrong, picked up the screaming boy.

Erik felt dizzy due to all of the commotion and, once he was with the royalty, water was being gently poured on him to calm him down from his dizzy spell. Erik cried harder, staring menacingly at the shah, "Well done, boy. You've killed many, this year."

"Shah, he is tired. We should let him rest."

"I need more than rest," Erik growled.

"What is it?" Nadir calmly asked.

Erik narrowed his eyes at the shah, noticed the dagger on his stand, and grab it without warning. Erik went insane, stabbing the shah right through the heart several times. He was so strong that not even Nadir could pull him off. After Erik woke up from his insanity, he dropped the dagger and saw the entire audience just sitting there in amazement at his actions. There was a big holler and Erik, along with Nadir, ran from the arena.

Erik found himself lost in the bustle of the city, but Nadir picked him up and ran with him towards the horse stables. Erik shook his head and looked up at Nadir, "You're his right hand man. Why are you helping me?!"

"I'm your friend. I have to help you," Nadir strapped Erik onto a horse and gave him two bags; one of clothing and one of food, "I knew this day would come eventually. I have an arrangement for you in Rome in the cathedral. Whatever you do, stay on the woody paths. If you go off of them, there are gypsy camps waiting for you. The horse needs an hour a day to graze and find water, so be careful where you go. Are you ready?"

"Yes."

"Alright," Nadir struck the horse with a riding crop and Erik went bouncing along on the way to Rome.

Erik looked back at Nadir who waved him goodbye and then he looked ahead at the empty dunes of the desert he would have to go through before the beautiful, woody paths. He felt the sand graze his back as the horse kept kicking forward. The proximity to the woody paths wasn't so much anymore, seeing as the horse he was on went very fast.

Erik laid his head down and wrapped his arms gently around the horses neck, which made the gentle creature slow down just a bit. He sighed and pushed the horse so he would gallop towards the woody path. Erik gathered his thoughts as he let the horse just keep going. He thought about all the people he killed, about one-thousand now, and narrowed his eyes at the sight of a town to the right. He had no more trust in society and didn't understand why he was following Nadir's directions and going to Rome. He assumed it had something to do with his friendship, but still couldn't understand why he'd do something so daft.

Erik reached into the bag for a shirt, which had not been wearing because of his job, and saw small dark hairs on his chest as he did so. He knew what this meant and groaned, knowing puberty would soon hit him like a ton of bricks. He knew he was late, though, because of what he heard from Nadir, who started at twelve and because Erik started at, now, fourteen, he was going to be growing a lot more.

He inhaled and looked inquisitively at the sunset in wonder of what was in store for him at Rome. He hoped it would be more peaceful there with less obsession of death, which reminded him of himself for some reason. Erik was always told that he had the face of death and that his face was Le Mort de la Rogue with flesh. He had no mask on, which he regretted, but had to keep going because of what he was told.

Erik breathed deeply again and started to sing, trying to ease his mind of the troubles which clouded his mind. It was harder to sing now because of his changing voice, but he didn't care. Music was there to soothe and comfort him like nothing else was and he knew that soon, hopefully, his next big career would be music related.


	9. Trials and Tribulations

**Chapter Nine - Trials and Tribulations**

Erik woke up on the horses back very late at night. The poor creature was still galloping as fast as its hooves could take and Erik, sorry for the animal, pulled back on reins tightly so it would stop moving. The horse slowed down near a brook where a small area of pasture was nearby and Erik, also hungry, reached into the bag on the horses back for a piece of bread. He ate the bread slowly as he watched the horse lap water from the brook and graze from the field.

Erik realized this was a huge change in scenery and knew he must be in another country by now. Surely enough he heard faint whispering in a language he had never heard before; a language that seemed familiar, but was so distinct he couldn't recognize it. He heard one word and thought about it over and over again: smrt'. He smiled and found out it was Slovak, but also found out it meant death. They were probably whispering about him.

Erik watched the horse as it indulged in the thick grasses and noticed how peaceful and content it was just eating. He wished that humans could be that simpleminded; caring about nothing but if they get food every day. He stood up and went towards the horse, whose gaze met his and held for a while. Erik admired the creatures beauty and gently stroked its mane as it continued to chew on the grasses still hanging from its mouth.

Erik ate the last bit of bread in his hand and hopped onto the horses back once again as he finished eating. He sighed and remembered his geography; he was almost there. All he had to do was go through Austria and bits of Italy before he would reach the city.

Erik gently kicked the horse in the side and they went galloping away. He saw a few people working out in farms and looked to the skies to see it lightening in color. Erik went back onto the woody path which they had left behind a while ago because of raids and found it more relaxing to be out of human company. He kept on the path for a while, as they had crossed an obvious border into another country. He never thought it would make him happy, but he was glad to be closer to his destination.

The horse huffed as they went up and down small hills and Erik, kinda sweaty from the heat, changed his shirt as the horse pounded on steadily. Erik watched yet another border pass and thought to himself, utterly confused, if it was really that short of a distance. He didn't realize, but he had rode on for almost five hours. It was late afternoon and the horse, panting and huffing, kept on moving until there was a perfect opportunity to stop by a lake where they could both have a drink of water.

Erik pulled on the reins and hopped off the horses back as both of them rushed over to drink from the lake. Erik stopped after a minute and just sat by lake, breathing deeply in and out. The horse started to roam the fields again, pulling up the thickest sections of grass, and Erik just sat there watching the scene take place. Erik took off his shirt and dipped his entire upper body into the lake, keeping himself in place by using his leg strength.

After he was thoroughly soaked, he came up for air and rubbed himself dry with the bottom of his shirt. He ran to the horse, pulled out another clean shirt, and put the other one into the bag. After being clothed in something reasonably cooling, he hopped onto the horse again and kicked its side.

They bounced away towards the towns and passed by beautiful Italian relics, each one with a religious significance. It was possibly the only thing Erik hated about Italy; their obsession with God. Sure, Erik was once a practiced Catholic, but was God ever really there in his time of need? Didn't seem like it to him. Was he around when his mother gave him up to a man she knew was terrible? No. Was he there when he was molested by Javert? Not at all. Not to mention, there when he killed all of those people? No. Otherwise, he would have been stopped.

Erik, now very tense and filled with anxiety from all of his thoughts, kicked the horse and made it gallop even quicker towards their destination. Erik noticed a large cathedral in the center of the city and sighed, realizing where he was. He knew that the horse would soon give out and pulled a bit on the reins, making the creature slow down a bit.

Once they were at the cathedral, Erik gave the reins a sharp tug and tied it to a post. When he got off of the horse, he received several menacing stares as he went towards the doors to the cathedral. Inside, there was a nun who stared at him with uncertainty, eyeing his every move. He stopped so she could look at him, but was not expecting a large outburst, "Il diavolo in carne e ossa. Il diavolo in carne e ossa!"

Erik only recognized the word diavolo, meaning devil in Italian, and others looked at him with gaping mouths unable to speak. He saw Nadir in the corner of the room waving and Erik, very angry, stormed towards him with a sort of negative energy built up inside, "You brought me here just to be ridiculed! Did you even have a job for me!?"

"Erik, I'm sorry. They already gave away your job, I had nothing to do with-"

"I came here for nothing! I would have rather died than risked my opportunities for a job I knew I wasn't going to get! I don't know why I even trusted you!"

"Alright, then. What are you going to do? Your now, what, sixteen? You have no job. You have no future. You definitely aren't going to marry anybody."

"How dare you! Pulling that card! I've told you how much I yearn for love and you just rub it in my face like when you kissed Jezebel. I would give my life to have what you do!"

"Well, Erik, you'll never have it!"

Erik took a deep breath, crossed his arms, and stared at Nadir with his bright green eyes, "You're nothing more than a two-faced coward!"

"Don't forget who saved your life all those times. You would have been dead if it wasn't for me!"

"I would rather be dead. You've got nothing on me, anymore."

Erik stormed out of the cathedral, still drawing attention due to his lack of a mask. He hopped on the horse, untied it's reigns from the post, and kicked the animal hard in the side causing to gallop away fast. Erik hated everyone and everything and, as a result of it, paid no attention to anyone's glares.


	10. Tragic Reunion

**Chapter Ten - Tragic Reunion**

Erik thought about where to go next, seeing as the Persians were probably angry at him and the Italians definitely didn't want him around. He thought about his hometown in France, Rouen, where he may possibly find peace and quiet. Although, he was ashamed about the idea he had about possibly finding his mother again.

He let the horse walk slowly along the hills of Northern Belgium, where he saw a gentle, old man who handed him a mask made of porcelain. Erik wore the mask mostly to protect his thin skin, but also to hide from the shame he received from society. The horse began to huff down the mountain and Erik, knowing they were approaching France, was rather nervous to be going home.

They trucked down towards a little town which seemed vaguely familiar and Erik knew at heart he was in his homeland. He smiled, actually missing his country seemed terribly daft to him, but it was as if he had been given he greatest hug in the world.

Erik admired the familiar sights and smiled every time he saw something with a memory attached, making him tear up a bit. He felt a feeling he never knew was possible before and sighed as he saw a church, one his mother used to take him to every day when he was two. Erik saw the horse panting and, sorry for the animal, let it free into grasslands after taking off the saddle and bags.

Erik rested the saddle on a bench, thinking he would never need it again, and went into the church with his bags. Once inside, he saw the old piano sitting at the left corner, where it had always been, and he went towards it, making sure nobody was there before he sat down to play it. He touched the dusty ivory keys, which had obviously never seen attention in a while, and set his hands into place. He smiled; it had been so long since he touched a piano.

He played a C major chord, then let his fingers fly, making the most beautiful music possible. It was just then that an older woman, in approximately her late forties, heard the magnificence coming from the piano and she gasped, recognizing the perfection in performance. She rushed towards the pianist and gently touched his shoulder, making him flinch.

Erik, after being shaken up the woman, sighed evenly and yelled in a deep, intimidating voice, "What do you want?"

She stared deeply into his bright green eyes which were so vibrant they almost outshone his anger, "Erik? Is that you?"

He stared at her for a moment, then stood up smoothed out his shirt, "Yes. I don't know you, though. And I intend not to."

"No, no. You don't remember. I am the midwife that helped your mother give birth to you."

Erik thought long and hard, then remembered her name and face, "Oh. Georgia."

"Yes. In fact, she is still alive. Oh, she's been hoping one day you'd come back."

"I haven't come to find her. I am looking for work and I need it fast. I feel utterly useless these days."

"Oh, Erik," she adjusted her bonnet, then waved him along with her outside, "I have a job for you in Paris. Monsieur Garnier needs to recruit several strong, young men and I think, judging by your build, that you may have a chance."

"Where in Paris?"

"That's where I have a proposition for you. If you come to see your mother, which will take an hour at the very most, I will personally order you a carriage and send you there myself. Do we have a deal?"

Erik didn't want any confrontation, but knew at the same time that he really needed a job. He groaned, "Fine. But she's not going to give me a sob story about how sorry she is, right? I don't want confrontation."

"No. She'll be nice. Hopefully."

Hopefully wasn't good enough, but he would settle, since this would probably be one of the last opportunities he would have.

Erik had forgotten, after years of being away from home, how short of a distance it was between the church and his mother's house. The house was open, as always, during the day because of the many visitors she obviously received due to the many bouquets of flowers. Erik took a deep breath and looked around the house before going into his mother's bedroom, where she laid in bed with her hands folded across her lap.

For once she seemed sort of calm; not reaching over to beat him was something new to Erik, even though he was older now and much stronger. He stood beside the dresser for a few minutes before she noticed him and Georgia, who stood in the hallway away from the situation that might bubble. Only, instead of receiving a negative reaction, Madeleine smiled at Georgia and shoed her away as Erik came slowly closer to her, "Oh, my son. You've grown so much. And you're so handsome."

"Sure. Handsome is not the word I'd use."

"Oh, your voice," she covered her mouth, tears coming to her eyes, tears Erik thought she deserved to let go of, "You sound just like your father. So dark and mysterious," Erik said nothing in retort to that, thinking it would most likely end badly, "Erik, I know you won't believe me, but I am dearly sorry for what I did."

"Why'd you do it?" he mumbled.

"What, honey?"

"Why'd you do it?!"

She gulped, obviously frightened by Erik. He smiled at her fright, "Sweetie, I did it because I didn't think you'd become anything. And because...I didn't know what to do with you."

"Oh, don't give me that garbage, mother. You know just as well as I do the reason you gave me up!"

"Erik, honey-"

Erik was filled with rage at hearing his mother say his name, especially when putting honey or sweetie next to it. He listened to her talk on and on about her 'tragic heart' or her 'sorry mind' or even, something more disgusting to him than that, her 'love and affection that somehow vanished. Everything built up inside and, for some reason, he felt it necessary to punch her in the stomach, which put an end to her speaking. She gasped as blood poured out of her mouth, "Erik, I...I'm sorry."

Erik watched her eyes slowly shut as her blood stopped after a while. He realized what he had done, then collapsed onto the floor in a tight ball. He rocked back and forth like a madman, clawing at the thick hair on his scalp.

Erik stood up and ran, ran for as far as his feet could take him. He watched the town go by in a flash and saw the perfect opportunity to hitch on a carriage bound west, which he took. He nervously bit at his lip, watching the town disappear behind him, like everything else in his life; vanishing before his very eyes.


	11. The Great Opera House

**Chapter Eleven - The Great Opera House**

Erik breathed heavily once he was off the carriage, staring amazing at a building that was just gorgeous, but lacked artwork. He stared at it for quite some time until a gentleman dressed in the finest wear possible approached him and exclaimed, "A beauty, isn't she?"

"Oh, yes."

"Say, would you happen to be available for work? I need some art around this building because it looks rather empty. We'll also need someone to strengthen the catacombs down in the cellars."

"Wait. You're Garnier? Monsieur Charles Garnier?"

"Yes."

"Oh, Monsieur," Erik bowed gracefully, "It really is a pleasure to meet you. I've been inspired by your work since I was a young child."

"I hear that a lot. How old are you, young man?"

"Seventeen."

Garnier smiled, patting Erik on the back, "I'm looking for a man of your youth and strength. Come, the job is yours. All of my employees get to be placed in the finest inn in Paris, of course, until the job is done. I will pay you three-hundred francs a month, enough to feed a family and buy yourself all the clothing you may need. If there is anything you ever need, you may ask and I will be there to assist you. Now, would you like to begin?"

"If I may ask, what exactly are you building?"

"An opera house. We will hold fine concerts, operas, ballets and whatever else an artistic admirer may need."

Erik smiled and realized this is the musical career he was waiting for. A job in constructing possibly the most brilliant, innocent thing he's ever touched. He was excited to start and did so immediately when he followed five other men inside and downstairs to the cellars, where he had a funny idea; what if someone lived in the cellars of the opera house? He laughed at it, finding it atrocious, yet possible considering even doing it himself.

Their assignment, strengthening the cellars, was very simple because all that needed to be done, according to Erik, was a layer of extra cement against the pillars. It helped immensely and, as Erik went further down to where no one dared go, he saw a body of water which leaked in from a lake in the countryside of Paris. He admired how calm it was and saw, at the end of the lake, a sturdy cement landing that looked almost like an island.

Erik had ideas about forming it into a home, but as he brainstormed, he was called. He responded gleefully and followed the men towards the outside, where they would continue their work by mending and creating statues for the pillars. Erik was stopped by Garnier, who calmly said, "How are you enjoying your work?"

"It is very fun."

"Good. Just so you know, my banks have been messing up lately, so I won't be able to pay you until the end of the month."

"That's fine."

"Great. I knew you'd be peaceful about it. Also, I heard your piano at the church. That was amazing. So passionate and surreal. Maybe you should consider playing for the opera house once it's finished."

Erik smiled, laughing, "Maybe I will."


	12. Developing the Opera Ghost

**Chapter Twelve - Developing the Opera Ghost**

Erik spent most of his time working on his 'new home', which actually provided strength to the pillars without anyone actually knowing. His new home was built out of his enjoyment of music and, along with his home, he built several tunnels, trapdoors, escapes, and illusions within the opera house; all of which led to every single room, including the dressing rooms.

He heard stomping and ran up to the second cellar to help the men lift whatever it was needed to be lifted. They all cheered him on whenever he had helped in lifting or moving objects, which made him appear very strong to the other men. Garnier called out to everyone and Erik, along with everyone else, came to attention by the entrance where they were having the grand opening ceremony.

Erik shook hands with Garnier and received his final sum, and amount of five-hundred francs. All around were the new employees to the opera; the new managers, the new ballerinas with their instructor, the new singers and, of course, musicians with their conductor, which Erik admired dearly. The performers and their leaders all came together in a group photo and Erik, along with the other workers, took one last look at their masterpiece.

Faure, who worked closely with Erik for a while, bowed, "Farewell, Monsieur Gautier. It was nice working with you."

"You as well, Faure. Thank you."

"Aren't you going to stay for the luncheon?"

"No. I should head home."

Erik laughed inside; a home it was, indeed. He hopped through a trapdoor and landed directly into his new home, admiring the construction and sequence of things. The furniture, like any other home, was arranged in a way where people could socialize with one another. Although there was no one to socialize with, Erik wanted his hidden life like anyone else's, peaceful and enjoyable.

He made sure it would be so by keeping people out using his trapdoors and tricks. Erik smiled as he tested one of them out and, seemingly out of nowhere, heard the most awful singing known to man. He breathed deeply, trying his best to ignore the truly awful music, even though he had no other choice but to listen.

Erik began playing his piano, hoping to drown out the noise, which worked amazingly. He smiled at his artistry, then grabbed up a book full of empty sheet music and thought about composing, which he had tried before, but always failed at. Erik assumed since he was now twenty that he had more experience, or at least enough to compose a piece. He took a feather pen dipped in ink and gently scribbled notes among the staff, of which he just played.

Erik sighed at his work, hoping it would be bigger, but knowing it would take a longer time than what he had available. He hoped to one day see his opera performed on the stage, once it was done, of course. But Erik knew none of the performers, or the singers at least, could produce what he envisioned.

Erik continued writing on his staff paper, thinking about the theme of this opera. He thought about his many years of deprivation of love and, due to that, created something detailing a tragic romance. He smiled as he thought of lyrics; lyrics that portrayed his life, but didn't work in an opera where the character could have anyone he wanted. Erik set down the feather and gently rubbed his temples, hoping ideas would soon bombard his mind.

A strange idea popped into his, one that screamed: what if a ghost were to haunt the opera? Wouldn't it get anything it desired due to the fear of a ruined stage performance? Yes, yes it would.


	13. Introduction to Christine

**Chapter Thriteen - Introduction to Christine**

Within the span of five years, Erik created his opera ghost persona. He spent most of his time going through singers, all of which he disliked immensely, telling the managers through notes to help their poor, inadequate stars. Erik, writing one now, made it mostly about the 'flaws' the opera house was experiencing all because of himself. He continued with his notes and his staff paper until he heard an ungodly singing voice; one so perfect that he himself took the liberty of finding who it's owner was.

The voice was oddly close, coming from the east of the opera, and Erik followed the beautiful tones to the chapel where he placed a one-sided mirror a while ago. He couldn't see the singer because she was turned around, but when she looked towards the mirror Erik held in a loud cry. She was the most beautiful women he had ever seen; with curly hair the shade of caramel and big, brown eyes that begged to be seen. Erik held his mouth, knowing this was truly love at first sight.

Another girl with blond hair came down to say hello to the her and they seemed to be close friends. The blond girl kept calling her Christine and Erik, mesmerized by the beauty of this Christine woman, felt the name suited her well. He overheard Christine talking about an angel she wished would visit her one day and Erik, unable to hold in his excitement about possibly talking to her, waited until the blonde girl left.

Christine went closer to the mirror and Erik almost jumped out of his skin when she touched the mirror, making it as if she was stroking him. He pursed his lips watched her silently as she continued to poke at the mirror. She sat down on her knees and admired a picture of a very handsome man, one who seemed to old for her, according to Erik. She whispered, "Oh, father. When will my angel come?"

Erik felt terribly sorry for her because of her father, for he had lost his as well. He didn't know what to do because she was waiting for an angel when he just realized angels couldn't be seen. Erik tried his hardest to ignore his stupid idea, but couldn't help himself. He had to talk to her, "Child, I bring myself before you."

Christine gasped and Erik, amazed at how far he could throw his voice, smiled when she stood in front of the mirror again. She touched the golden edge on the mirror and whispered again in a voice thought Erik was so beautiful it could make God himself cry, "You are my angel?"

"Yes," Erik said reluctantly, "And your father sent me to improve your singing. One day, you will be the star on the stage," Erik was excited for that one day. Perhaps she could be the lead in his opera.

"I am going to be on stage?"

"Yes, my child. You will be the greatest singer who ever lived. Starting today, if you wish."

"Oh, how I wish! Angel, teach me. Teach me your ways."

Erik smiled at her begging and found she seemed sort of like a puppy when she begged, "I will teach you, oh fair one. But you must not speak of these lessons. To everyone else, you must call me your maestro."

"Oh, I promise. I won't let you down, angel."

Erik smiled and stroked the window where her face was, "I know you won't. I can see now that you are forever faithful."

Christine smiled and bowed on the floor with her arms spread, "I may be sixteen, but I promise I have the loyalty of a child."

Sixteen years old, Erik sighed. She was old enough for him to marry, but he would let that wait. He had no more to say, since he was so speechless, and he just watch her rise from the floor with her child-like face full of joy. Christine smiled and rushed upstairs to the stage where she saw the other ballerinas practicing their dance moves.

Erik followed her steps quickly and looked down from the rafters as she danced with joy, trying her hardest to do what the other girls did. She had such trouble with dancing, Erik noticed, but it was the only thing keeping her in the opera house, as he instructor called out, "Straighten your leg! Fix your posture!"

Erik watched Christine struggle and realized her instructor was the same woman who gave his notes to the managers. Antionette Giry, a woman of forty, who had a daughter the same age as Christine which he saw talking to her in the chapel. Erik watched Christine practice her dancing, which she couldn't seem to get right, and saw Madame Giry giving her the same punishment used for all ballet girls: the whipping stick.

Erik almost cried out as she was struck on the back, knowing she didn't deserve it. The sound reminded him of his childhood and he almost took revenge on Giry for giving her the punishment, "This is not acceptable, Christine. I brought you into the opera because I needed more dancers. Do you want to go back to the orphanage?"

"No. Please!"

"Then shape up."

Christine nodded and followed the routine again, trying to reach up to the other dancers, but she fumbled once more, worse, and fell onto her stomach. Erik grabbed the rails, about to jump of and help, but he had to maintain his persona. He, instead, created a loud noise by dropping scenery onto the stage where no one danced. The ballet girls screamed, but not Christine; she was too focused on something else as she looked up, her hands folded and her eyes closed, praying for a miracle to happen.


	14. Teacher and Angel

**Chapter Fourteen - Teacher and Angel**

Erik spent a half hour in chapel walls, waiting for Christine to arrive. He heard the door lock as she walked towards the mirror with a small rose. She knelt in front of her father's epitaph and spoke softly, "Oh, angel. Come to me. For I am lonely and in need. Teach me your ways. Guide me through song. Be my guardian."

Erik smiled and whispered, throwing his voice behind her, "My child, I've waited. Are you ready for your lesson?"

"Yes, mon ange."

"Alright. The first you should know about singing is that you breath lifting your stomach, not your chest. Try singing for me using that technique."

Erik watched as she sung the most lovely aria in a language foreign to him. Just like he said, she heaved her stomach at every breath, only she lacked one thing: passion. The passion that made him a great singer was there mainly because of his lack of affection which she had plenty of due to her beauty. There was one thing he could use though, sadly: her father, "My dear child you are amazing. But you could be so much better. What did your father do that made you passionate in your singing?"

"He...he would sing to me. After I heard him sing I just wanted to do all that was possible to make him proud by singing with him."

"If I sang, would it appease you?"

"An angel's song? Yes."

Erik grinned at how excited she was to hear him and warmed his voice by humming a short tune she couldn't hear through the walls. He took a breath, tensing his stomach, and sang from opera she would definitely recognize because of her ballet act in it. Her expression seemed nonexistent, until he finished singing. Christine ran towards the mirror and looked at the reflection of eyes or, as it seemed from Erik's side, she looked directly at him.

She turned around, gently stroking her hair, and whispered in her beautiful, little voice, "You've enlightened me, mon ange. I want your gift. But how can I get it?"

"The only thing ask is you stay faithful to me. After that, I can sing for and teach you all you want. You will be on stage, I promise you."

Christine smiled, then turned towards the mirror again, "Can angel's ever transform into humans, mon ange? If not, will I be in heaven with you?"

Erik knew he wasn't going to heaven when he died, but Christine had no question. He knew she was definitely going to heaven, if not headed there already. He didn't know how to answer, but kept it simple, "You will come to heaven, child. But I may be falling by the time you're there."

Christine was silent, having no more questions she decided to change the topic, "Angel, why are women pushed around so much?"

Erik had no way to answer that, since he was a man and didn't really understand it himself. He had a few ideas, "Women's souls are seen as intimidating, even to the strongest man. You women have the capacity for love and understanding where as all men know is violence. Why do you ask, my child?"

He saw her eyes tear up and felt a strong urge to comfort her, though it would risk his identity, "I turned seventeen today and suddenly all of these men are coming at me with bouquets of roses and marriage proposals and several other things I see as unimportant. Even the managers say it is high time I get married and have children. To fulfill my role as a housewife. I want to sing, though. So badly that I would give my life to sing in the heavens."

Erik felt really sorry for the girl, having been pushed around at that age as well because of his wrong doings. He didn't want to agree with the managers, even though he sadly did, because that would mean losing Christine; the one reason he was still alive, "Pay no attention to them, fair one. They tease you. A woman's life is only empty when she has no passion."

"But men say passion is bad for women. Oh, angel, what do I do?"

Erik had nothing to tell her, "You should rest, sweet child. Rest your little head and don't worry about a thing."

"Alright, angel."

Erik watched her shuffle quickly upstairs, a sight that made him anticipate the next time he would see her. He sighed, imagining what her skin must feel like. She probably felt as soft as a rose petal. He recalled her plump, pink lips and imagined those beautiful lumps of flesh grazing his face. Erik smiled at the idea and imagined something unspeakable, which made even him blush.


	15. Erik's Lovely

**Chapter Fifteen - Erik's Lovely**

Erik watched Christine age and mature in her career as a singer. Granted she hadn't been on stage yet, he had installed so much passion into her performance that he was almost certain she would sweep away the managers with her beautiful song.

He watched her in the rafters, her 'angel', protecting her from any harm that might come due to ridicule. She was shy, extremely shy; so shy that he might have to do something drastic in order to get her to audition. So, he did. He set up a trap of rats in the diva Carlotta's dressing room, which she despised so much she had quit on the managers. The managers were scurrying around trying to find a new prima donna for the show until, seemingly out of nowhere, Christine shyly whispered to Firmin, "I can sing the role."

The managers looked at each other and shrugged their shoulders, "Alright. Let's see what you have, Mademoiselle Daàe."

Christine nervously stepped up, her hands locked together, and sang in a voice so glorious not even the other singers could comprehend. Erik, in the rafters, heard the whispers of how she sang like a siren and the possibilities of who her maestro was. He heard several mentions of his persona and smiled knowing he actually did teach her to sing with such beauty and passion.

Erik waited in, what was now, her permanent dressing room behind a mirror he designed like the lever opening doors in Persia, except it opened from side to side. She entered her dressing room with a smile on her face and prepared her costume by hanging it over her dressing curtain to loosen the fabric. Christine began undressing and Erik, afraid to be snooping, quickly covered his eyes even though she could not see him.

He tapped his foot quietly, waiting for her to finish, until he got very impatient. He uncovered his eyes, but did so at the wrong time, seeing her corset. Erik swallowed hard, feeling a strange sensation in his trousers, and he couldn't help but look as she slipped on her shoes, revealing pink flesh in between her thighs. He held in a gasp and watched her slip into her dress, adjusting her breasts to fit the form.

Christine came towards the mirror, making Erik fear losing his sanity, and perfected her makeup, applying just a bit of balm to her lips. He heard call time and, unable to take seeing her anymore, went towards the trapdoor leading to his home. He heard her singing again and couldn't take much more the strange pleasure going through his body. He felt like he might lose all control if he didn't watch her performance, which was a success.

The audience cheered loudly, more loud than Erik had ever heard before, and he, knowing she was coming back, went back through the trapdoor and behind the mirror, glued to the glass. Erik saw Christine being given several bouquets of flowers, one of which he gave to Madame Giry full of roses painted black. Giry gave her the vase full of roses and Christine, shocked by the color, stared at her inquisitively, "Who is this one from, Madame?"

Giry smiled, "You're secret admirer. Oh, and I believe you have a suitor," she then handed Christine a single, red rose, "From a man with the last name of Chagny. He says he knows you."

Erik was devastated by this news and Christine, seeming like she saw a ghost, sat down in her vanity chair and rubbed her temples. She seemed baffled, but it was as if she had seen a terrifying spirit which increased Erik's confidence. Maybe this suitor was just another one of those annoying men Christine talked about a few years ago. Then again, she was twenty now and things are much different in the eyes of a twenty-year-old woman.

Erik watched as a gentleman in opera attire entered the room, covering Christine's eyes like he was about to give her a present, "Little Lotte, fair flower, how do your colors show? Your buds have blossomed, your hands are fair and-"

"Your cheeks are paler than the snow. Oh, Raoul!" She gave him a hug and kissed him on the cheek, making rage boil inside Erik, "How did you know it was me?"

"I got a copy of the play ballot. You did wonderful tonight, Christine."

"Oh, I haven't seen you in ages! How is Sweden?"

"It seems sad. Poverty has stricken awfully hard there."

"Oh. That's terrible," she rubbed the balm off her lips with a handkerchief, wrapping herself in her white robe.

"Yes," he gently stroked her cheek, making Erik very jealous, "Would you like to come with me to the banquet? They're having it in your honor."

Christine softly shook her head, "My maestro would be awfully mad. I have lessons every night."

"Even on your opening gala? I think he can wait one night. Go. I insist."

Erik, from behind the mirror, straightened as Raoul left. He was proud he was gone, but he left Christine a confused mess. Erik knew this was going to be rough patch in his quest on Christine, but he would get through it anyway, "Don't think to disobey me, my child."

"Oh no, angel! I would never dishonor you," she bowed before her mirror, which she treated as a shrine to 'the angel'.

"You must always obey me, child. You must keep your loyalty."

"Oh, I will! I promised."

Erik smiled and he couldn't wait any longer. He had to finally meet her face to face.

He had chloroform ready in his vest pocket in case a situation would break and, with fluidity, whispered, "Come close to your mirror, dear child."

Erik had her in lock as a puppet and her every movement was dependent upon what he said. He had left the entrance way to the mirror and went into a corner, pulling down hard on a small lever. Erik had thrown his voice again, but kept silent once she was inside, shutting the mirror behind her and making her gasp.

Erik finally realized how very close he was to her and it made him scared to think that he may soon touch her. Her scent pleased him to no end and he, very softly, rested his hand on her shoulder. She gasped at the contact, fumbling around in the dark that Erik was now very used to. He realized her struggle and struck a match onto a torch to let her see him fully. Christine didn't know what to do about the situation, "Where's my angels voice?"

"I am your angel."

"But you are no angel. You're a...man. You're...oh dear lord. You're the opera ghost!"

"Shh. No one can hear you down here."

Erik gently pulled on her hand and led her down a single flight of stairs, which she struggled to escape. He gently grabbed her shoulders and used his immense height to intimidate her, which worked quite well. Christine shivered at the proximity of their faces and, once he led her by the hand, decided to cooperate and follow him.

He led her to a gondola, which he laid her into like a princess, and rowed down the water towards his home. Christine was in awe at how he treated her, mostly because she was used to being treated like a piece of meat. She looked up at him as he rowed, unable to see his expression because of the porcelain mask on his face. Erik grabbed the post swung the noose of the gondola around it, gently carrying Christine out.

He watched patiently as she explored the inside and folded his arms as she stared at him. Christine didn't know what to do or say and Erik, having never been closer than one hundred feet to a woman, was even worse, "Do you want anything?"

"No. No, thank you," Erik frowned, wishing that she could be more clear in her wants and needs, "Why did you bring me here?"

He chuckled, "That's an interesting question. Christine, I brought you here because I love you. Now, I have seen a lot and I know what happens to pretty women like yourself up there," he said pointing upwards, "You said yourself that you don't want a life without music. I can give you that life."

Christine shivered as he came close, bending onto a chair to keep herself standing, "That's very tempting, but..."

"Don't you want to be faithful?"

"I," she let her eyes wander as his hand gently rubbed her waist. Erik was surprised that when he touched her, she didn't flinch. She was calm and collected just like he always was, "I don't know what I want."

Erik smiled and, removing his glove, gently touched her cheek. She had such soft, plump cheeks compared to his, which were practically nonexistent. He was happy, for once, due to Christine's genuine smile. She loved the way his hands felt on her skin, even though they were cold and bony.

Erik removed his other glove, then put each of his hands on her arms. He bathed in her smile and, with all his courage, pulled her into him for a hug. Erik finally felt accepted when she gently rubbed his back, "You're lonely, aren't you?"

Erik nodded, then let go of her, "I want you to stay here."

"I don't think that's a good idea. I have to perform tomorrow."

"I see. You want to be with your boy."

"No. Even so, I barely know you. You're the opera ghost, remember. You could kill me. Or worse..."

"I wouldn't do that to anyone. I don't even know who made that up."

"But you kidnapped me! You knew I didn't want to be down here."

Erik sighed. He could go on listening to her ramble about how much she despised this place or about how she didn't even know him that well, but instead he grabbed the chloroform from his pocket and wafted it into her area. Erik saw her dizziness and she fell into his arms. She was easy to hold compared to other things he had to carry.

Erik moved with her up to his swan bed and laid her down, watching her sleep. She was rather pretty when she slept, a gentle smile outlining her lips, and Erik removed her shoes to make her sleep more comfortably. He smiled at her and went towards his piano to finish the night working on his score.


	16. Attempting Love

**Chapter Sixteen - Attempting Love**

Erik worked hard on his score, making key adjustments and trying to find suitable dress for each character singing the roles in the current song he worked on. He played it through on his piano and smiled at its perfection, then looking to Christine for inspiration who sat on his bed unmoving. Erik never imagined she would meet him face to face, or mask to face rather.

He continued to work on his score, keeping in mind that she may hear it and feel its fire on her skin. Erik erased three chords he wasn't happy with and changed them all to minors, smiling as he played through them again. He loved working with his music, but there were times such as now when he would run out of ideas and he slammed his elbows to the piano, rubbing his head.

He put his mind to the music again and put his fingers into the right places on his piano, playing what may possibly be on the score. He heard rustling and turned to notice Christine standing elegantly by his artwork. Erik smiled, then continued playing through what may come to life in his music. He was lost, enveloped safely in his notes and legatos until one thing went missing - his mask. He stood and turned to see Christine holding it, fright displayed on her beautiful face. Erik felt the pain of all that had happened when someone saw his face and he reacted savagely, throwing her to ground, "You wanted to see?! Dear Christine, this," he exclaimed, pointing at his head, "is why I live here!"

Erik went down to her level, becoming closer and closer to her until she could not move and was encased by his hideous glare and his unmoving body, "Why, Christine? Why did you want to see me?"

She was shivering from his closeness, looking at his mask and then back up to him. Erik had tears running down his cheeks and though he couldn't stand her seeing him like this he remained still, hoping she would kind enough to give back his mask. He stared at her, now with tears running down her cheeks she slowly handed him the mask, her hand trembling.

Erik took it back with gratitude, putting it into place and smoothing back his thick, black hair. He looked at Christine again who didn't return his glance, only looked down with tears staining her perfectly round cheeks, "I don't deserve your tears," he said, grabbing her by the wrist, "Come, we must return. Those two fools running my theatre will be missing you."

* * *

Christine, as promised, was returned to her dressing room where Madame Giry awaited, waving goodbye to Erik.

Erik slouched beside the inner mirror, hearing Christine talk about his hideous face to Madame Giry. She sounded more afraid then he was when she saw him and he wondered if she thought he was evil. That he was just a being on Earth capable of nothing other than sin. He held his head, thinking of what she thought of him. He knew it couldn't have been bad because when she finally saw his face after his anger surpassed she seemed- at ease. It was as if she had accepted him, God forbid.

He thought about it as he went back to his abode, thought about her possible love for him until he heard some promising conversation from the mirror, "I know he's the one who gave me the bouquet of black roses. I found a poem inside the jar - 'Eleven real, one faux, I'll love you til the last dies.' Madame, he'll love me forever. And... I think I might reciprocate."

He smiled at the possibility of finding love, until Madame spoke, "It's a dangerous choice, Christine. He may hurt you."

Her words froze him in place and he couldn't believe Christine would socialize with such people. Was it so wrong to love a deformed man? Would it hurt her to actually show kindness to someone who was not in its light? He knew he never even thought of hurting her, but did anyone else? Did Christine herself know she would never be hurt by him? He knew not the answer.


	17. Breaking His Heart

**Chapter Seventeen -**

Erik had his heart set on Christine's next performance and as he watched the managers read his notes from a small window in the ceiling, he hoped they would not ruin his plans. Carlotta was not, under his watch, to be singing the role of the countess as Christine deserved every opportunity to shine. He would not have a rampant prima donna as his star, it just couldn't happen.

He saw the dim witted managers as Carlotta rushed into the office having received Erik's note. He grinned, but when the vicomte followed shortly behind it was his undoing and he could not watch any more, only listened, "These notes are _ridicolo_! How do you expect _me_ to work under these conditions?! I need the _lead_ , I cannot possibly be the paige boy!"

"Madame la Carlotta, this is not us. I want you in the lead as well, but this Opera Ghost has full control."

"You are the managers. Fix this, or you will be stuck with your little Christine doll!"

"But she's not even!-"

"Messieurs!" Madame Giry called, "She has returned."

"Oh, perfect. Send her-"

"No. She needed rest, so I left her in her dressing room."

There was a long silence, then it was broken by Carlotta, "You'd rather have your precious little ingenuie over me! I see it now. Piangi, get my coat. We are leaving and never returning."

"No, Carlotta, no. You will be the lead. Miss Daae will be- silent."

"What about your dark Opera Ghost?"

"He'll have to deal with it."

Erik could not hold in his anger and let his voice rattle darkly over their heads, "If my rules are to be ignored, a disaster beyond imagination will occur. Do not disobey me."

He heard gasps and a gentle thud, smiling at his power over them.

* * *

Erik was surprised to find his box being taken once again by not just random people, but the Vicomte de Chagny. He knew he would have to let disaster unravel tonight and he grinned, getting the chandelier ready. There was suddenly and atrocious singing and he knew his instructions were definitely not being obeyed. He screamed - loud enough to where even the people backstage could hear, "Behold, she is singing to bring down the chandelier!" which he shook hard to prove his words.

Screaming, frightened gasps, and then Christine's beautiful voice whispering, "It's him."

Once Carlotta had piped and he heard enough, making the most ugly toad noises to interrupt her song. It was then the managers finally gave him what he wanted and he smiled, knowing he would soon hear Christine's lovely voice. But then he saw her, running towards the roof, and he followed in a different path, one that led to the back of a statue and hid him from gazes.

Christine was alone, her gasps the only sounds available until the vicomte had followed, holding her arms dearly, "Christine, why have you come up here?"

"I can't sing, Raoul. He will kill you. He will hurt me."

"Christine, he isn't the all powerful mastermind. He doesn't even exist."

"He does, Raoul. I saw his face. Oh, distorted and frightening it was. I don't know if I can take it. But his gaze- oh, his sad eyes. He holds the saddest memories like they are all he has. Raoul, he is a sad man. He needs company and he'll get it through me even if he has to force it."

"Christine, Christine-"

"Christine," Erik sang her name in sweet consonants, making her quiver.

"Raoul, what was that?"

Raoul shook his head at her, "Don't speak anymore of darkness or the fear of this man. He is only that...just a man."

"Raoul, will you protect me from him? Will you keep me safe if he ever comes for me?"

"Christine, he won't come for you. Not as long as I own you."

"What does that mean?"

Erik watched from behind the statute as Raoul knelt before Christine with a shiny object in his hand and placed it on her finger. A kiss was shared and he felt his heart break into millions of fragments, especially as she dropped a black rose - the one symbolizing his everlasting love and adoration. Erik felt the tears come to his eyes, heartbreak and hatred being the only things he felt, "No love for Erik," he whispered to himself, starting at the couple as they went back to the opera.

Erik went to the abandoned rose and cried into its faux petals, watching as it glistened under the starlight. He brought the petals to his lips, hoping that she would find a way to love him again even if he had to force her to see her true feelings she now became afraid of.


	18. Masquerade

**Chapter Eighteen - Masquerade**

Erik found himself lost for several months in his composition, spending all his spare time adding lyrics to the operatic melodies. The managers were having the chandelier repaired after Erik let it loose at the end of Il Muto all those months ago. Christine returned to her dressing room and Erik, knowing it, but not acting upon it yet, wrote the last lyric and smiled at his achievement.

Erik headed towards the stairs, getting ready to intimidate Christine once again, and put the hat on to his red death costume. He looked through the mirror as she started at herself in the vanity, rubbing her temples and stepping into her shoes for the Masquerade. Erik pulled hard on the lever and the mirror quietly slid open, Christine not even noticing. He approached swiftly, making sure he made no sudden noises, and grabbed her by the shoulders earning a gasp, "Make sure you don't go to the Masquerade with your precious vicomte. I _will_ be watching you."

He left just as soon as he entered, pulling up on the lever hard and fast so the mirror would close faster, which it did. He watched Christine scurry around, getting ready for the Masquerade party which was just hours away.

* * *

Erik stood at the entrance to the froyier, which was where the party was being held, and admired his score which he would soon put into the trust of the managers, as 'promising' as they were. He thought about if Christine had heeded his warning and left the vicomte either by himself or brought him along, the latter being greatly unappreciated.

He walked casually down the stairs until he was noticed, the group of instruments ceasing at his presence. He saw André and Firm in tending, Carlotta had her mouth gasping open, and Christine, sure enough, was standing beside the vicomte. Erik smirked, handing his score to the managers, "My new opera. Don Juan Triumphant! And, Piangi, lose some weight before you perform. It isn't healthy or appealing."

Erik had his gaze set on Christine as everyone returned to their partying. He noticed, as he approached her, that the vicomte had gone away. He smirked at this change and grabbed her hand, throwing her engagement ring on the floor, "You are _mine,_ Christine. Mine."

She stared at him, unmoving, as he seemed to bury into her soul through her eyes. Christine, for once, noticed his gorgeous bright green eyes and found herself lost in their gaze. Erik pulled up her chin, making her face at him deeper, their lips almost touching, "You disobeyed me."

"I'm sorry," she said, trembling.

"You belong to me, Christine. You may be engaged to your precious vicomte, but he didn't gift you with the voice of an angel. He didn't give you an amazing stage career."

"I-"

Before she could finish her sentence, Erik had left her face and glared solely at her, branding her with his gaze, "Never forget who your true master is, Christine,"he said on his way out.


	19. Finding Guidance

**Chapter Nineteen - Finding Guidance**

Erik watched from behind the mirror as Christine continued practicing, her notes seeming too high for her. She sat down in frustration, then began crying. He felt sympathetic, but at the same time thought she deserved to cry for breaking his heart. When he saw the vicomte come in, along with the managers, he felt the powerful need to protect and shield her from them as they carried on, Carlotta now joining in the argument, "This is stupid! Why does this harlot get the lead in the opera?"

"It's his rules, not ours!"

"Exactly," Firmin agreed with André, "He needs to know his place."

Incoherent babbling and arguments pounding, obviously making Christine very stressed. She cried more, under her hand wiping the tears. Raoul gasped, "I've got it!"

The managers, Christine, and even Carlotta were at full attention, "This is the chance we have to ensnare our clever friend. If Miss Daáe sings, he'll surely be there."

"And we'll have armed police at every door."

"Yes. And when the curtain falls-"

"No more phantom!" Carlotta exclaimed.

"Raoul," Christine screamed in a frighted tone, "Please don't make me sing! It'll be worse. He'll never let me go. I'll be part of him forever!"

"You said yourself he was nothing but a man. But while he lives, we'll never have peace."

She trembled in his arms, knowing Raoul himself wasn't even safe any longer, "I'm twisted every way. How can I do this? I can't betray the man who inspired my voice. But if I don't, I'll become his prey."

"Christine, don't think I don't care, but you are our last hope."

Erik watched as they bombarded her with demands, now starting to feel sorry for her. He knew her plans to go to the cemetery and had a violin case in hand as a plan to solid her affections. He headed towards the carriage stables and took one up, waiting for Christine to enter. He pulled the cloak to cover his head and heard her gently say, "To the cemetery, please."

He grinned, then pulled down hard on the reins of the carriage. The horses pulled forward, fast and breathy, stomping towards the large gates to the cemetery. Erik pulled the reins again, this time stopping the horses, and ran towards the statue before Christine left the carriage. He ducked behind the last name of Daáe, watching as Christine mourned and begged for her father's advice, "Oh, papa...I don't know what to do. You were once my friend and the only one I could trust, but...now that you aren't here," he heard her weep, feeling deeply sorry for her, "He loves me so much, father. And I do too, but...it's so dangerous. I just can't love him. It's not right. He's a killer."

Erik watched her tear up - she wanted to love him, but his sins got in the way of that. Everyone who reminded her was in the way of that. He picked up the violin and bow and started to play, finding it a good time. He slowly left the hiding place of the grave, seeing the surprise on Christine's face as he played the violin. She seemed to reach for him, to idolize him as if he truly was an angel.

He continued to play, continued to bewitch her with the sound of that taunting, familiar instrument. He sang with it, which made her enjoyment even greater as she yearned for the man the voice belonged to, a blush staining her cheeks pink. Erik smiled at her yearning and continued to play and sing beautiful melodies for her. He almost had her in his grasp, until the vicomte shook her out of her trance yelling, "Christine, stop idolizing him! He is trying to take advantage of you!"

Erik scowled at the idea - take advantage of Christine? How could he do such a thing? Erik believed he would never get to touch or even kiss her for that matter, "Swaying her thoughts, Monsieur? Well," he said encasing the violin, "would you care to hear my thoughts of you?"

Erik came towards Raoul, face to face, "Personally, I detest that you try to change her opinions. I don't believe you are worthy of her beauty and kindness."

"Well she can't possibly love you. She herself you're a hideous beast."

Erik snarled, pulling the vicomte's sword and handing it by the handle, "Hideous I may be, but coward I am not," Erik claimed, unsheathing his sword.

"I am no coward!"

Christine could do nothing but watch as they fought in her name, praying that neither got hurt. She gasped as Raoul lost his sword and Erik, about to kill, "No! Please!"

She grabbed his arm, begging, "Don't do this."

Erik threw the sword down, staring at her with anger. She backed away, frightened by his glare, and watched him disappear. Raoul stood with her, holding her shoulders, "C-Christine, you have a show tonight. It would be wise if we went."


	20. Choosing Erik

**Chapter Twenty -**

Erik not only had his heart set on Christine's performance, but he was going to be in the duet in which Piangi had no business being in. Erik watched Piangi backstage, planning how he would get him out of the way, until he heard something that drove him beyond madness, "I can't wait to touch that little beauty. I have a good feeling her bosoms are soft and plenty."

"I know. You're so lucky, Piangi."

Erik felt the same red demon start to overtake his body and, without thinking, he pulled out his lasso and wrung both Piangi and his friend. He grinned at his work, then covered his head, waiting for Christine to finish her line. He took a deep breath, then let his godly voice ring in the theater, making even people in the audience turn their heads at his suave and grace. Christine especially was confused and also bewitched by his beautiful voice.

Erik was about to find out what Piangi was talking, his heart beating fast as he sang his last few lines, running his hands slowly up and down her body - and her bosoms, as Piangi said, were soft and plenty.

Christine felt frozen when it was her time to sing. When she sang, she seemed to have fear, looking around at the audience for reassurance. Erik watched her make her stage movement and knew, soon, she would have to touch him. He sat on the bench, as directed in his lines, and raised his hands - hands which trembled once they were touched by Christine's. When they had to sing together, Erik felt possessiveness overtake him and grabbed both her arms to keep her from going away. Their voices seemed to blend into one, seemed to make a beautiful note unearthly sounding to all of the ears in the theater.

Erik felt finally at peace until he felt his cloak being thrown off. He was exposed and put in the face of death when he saw the many police pointing guns at him. He took a deep breath, looking at the police, the vicomte, and then Christine who was on the verge of tears. He took her hand, took off a golden band that was on his finger, and placed it on her ring finger. He watched her expressions, hoping she wouldn't do anything drastic until she unmasked him. He made women in the audience faint, the police dropped their guns and he, anger boiling inside, cut a wire that held the chandelier still.

Erik stomped the floorboards near the backstage and dropped with Christine into the lake leading to his home. He watched the trapdoor close and dragged her along towards his home, searching through curtains for something he hid from her for a while. He pulled a wedding gown off the mannequin, handing the dress to Christine who refused, "You need to be warm, but this is also a consequence of when you defile me."

"I can't. It's not right."

"You love your damned boy so much, you can wear this and let him live."

"You'll have to force me!"

"I'm not one to withstand temptation."

Christine widened her eyes as he started unhooking her gown. She tried to withstand his grasp, but had a bit too much to fight when he kept her still by pressing her waist to the edge of a table with his strong thighs. Erik sort of felt sorry for the poor girl, but reminded himself that she had betrayed him over and over again.

Erik pulled off her wet gown and slid her into the wedding gown, forcefully meeting hooks and tying bows. He let her go one the gown was on, spending time with his manuscript, "Are you happy with yourself?! You killed several people to win my affection! Are you unsatisfied? Is my body your next target?!"

"I cannot have you nor anyone that way! Though I may wish to feel your...succulent flesh behedst mine...my face is a hindrance to any pleasure one may feel."

Christine sighed, resting her hand on his forearm, "Your face does not stop my love. It is what you have done. Your soul is where the true distortion lies."

Erik set his face at her eyes, but out of his peripheral he saw the vicomte - who ignored Madame Giry's warning with both arms at his sides. He saw Christine beside Erik and stood there in awe, only Christine too and started for him only to be pulled into Erik's grasp, "Let her go, Monsieur! She does not want you!"

"Even if she does not, she has no choice! She holds the voice I gave her and as long as she sings, she is mine!"

"Just...please! Let me see her!"

"As you wish," Erik had the thrown her towards the vicomte, his temper raging, "Monsieur."

He watched through eyes clouded with anger and sadness as they hugged and assured each other. Erik grabbed his lasso, hiding it behind his back so he wouldn't sway their safety, "You've done her justice, Monsieur. Your handsomeness, her beauty. You being her saviour, her being the damsel in distress. It's such a shame it'll all have to end," he exclaimed throwing his lasso around his throat.

Christine gasped, stepping away from him, as Erik addressed them, "She told you to keep your hand at the level of your eyes and you did not listen! Why am I not surprised!? The only one who can save your pathetic life now is Christine. If she marries me, I'll let you go hands free, but if she doesn't, we'll all die! So go on, Christine! Make your choice!"

Erik realized her desperation, knowing it must have been a tough choice between her childhood friend and her longtime admirer. He walked away from the vicomte, keeping his hand tight on the end of the lasso. Christine went towards Erik, looking apologetically at Raoul, "You're so very pitiful. Living in darkness all your life. What kind of life have you had?" She asked, tearing up, "God give me courage enough to show you are not alone."

Erik felt a spark surge through his body the moment she touched her lips to his. Everything seemed to become undone: the years of beating, the times of killing, and the pain of lacking compassion all gone with one kiss. Erik felt the rope slide out of his hand, his arms wrapping around her waist so she would never have to let go. Sadly, her lips went away. She looked at him with such a caring aura and he let the vicomte loose, "Go. You both may leave. I can't handle this anymore."

"No," Christine refused the arms of her vicomte, walking towards Erik instead, "I kissed you. I chose you, Erik."

"Christine," Raoul whispered, "It's not wise."

"I know. But I did what I had to. I'm sorry, Raoul."

"It's fine."

"Christine," Erik yelled, "if you want me, we have to go now!"

She nodded, waving goodbye to her childhood friend forever. Erik grabbed her hand and led her through tunnels hidden behind a curtain. He felt around for a latch and once it was found, they were outdoors at the back of the opera house. The fire was blaring brightly, which made the two seem like shadows as they headed towards carriage stables. Erik quickly helped Christine into the carriage, taking hold of the reins and pulling hard.

They were going quickly, beating down the road with such a ferocity that the dirt around them flew up into clouds. Erik turned right, towards his hometown of Rouen, with a plan already formatting in his mind. Once they approached his old home, he pulled tightly on the reins, stopping the horses. He to the carriage itself and helped Christine out and into the old house, no one inside. He locked the doors and placed his hand on Christine's shoulder, who shivered at his contact, "I'm sorry I scare you, mon cherie. This is only temporary, as I detest this...place very much."

"This is alright. But, might I ask, what is your name?"

Erik froze: the last time he told someone his name he was not only betrayed, but he was used, beaten, and taken advantage of. But since he would be with Christine for some time, he might as well give her something to call him by, "Erik."

"Erik?"

"Yes," he looked down at his feet, wanting to ask for something - a kiss - but remembering the last time he ever asked for something like that, "Come, you need some rest."

Christine followed Erik into a room with a large, four-poster bed with mahogany wood and red cloth draping as the canopy. The sheets and blankets were white and Christine, sitting at the edge of the bed, took off her white shoes and stockings. Erik took off his coat, the pulled up a chair and aligned it with the edge of the bed, "Aren't you sleeping in the bed?"

"With you in it? That's not a bright idea."

"Why's that?"

Erik shook his head, "You are so naïve, my dear. Me, a man, lying in a bed with a very beautiful woman like yourself. I would lose all control. So, no, I am not sleeping in a bed with you."

Christine held her hands together, thinking, "I'm sorry, Erik. For everything."


	21. Receiving Christine's Care

**Chapter Twenty-one - Receiving Christine's Care**

Erik woke up several hours before Christine, exploring the home of his childhood. He went to the attic first and saw his old cage-craddle which was built to stop him from wandering about the house. He went back to the main floor and explored the living room, remembering his very first meal on the main floor of the house. Erik held his forehead, rubbing his temples and wondering how his mother ever had the mind to treat him like that. Sure he wasn't the prettiest baby in the world, but he was still her son!

Erik couldn't wait til he had a plan to leave once and for all. He wanted nothing more than to leave the past behind and forget all that happened. He knew exactly where to do such a thing to - America. The New World, full of opportunities and a bright new future for anyone. The only problem was, he had to get there by water. He knew he couldn't risk seeing any familiar Frenchmen on a boat, but didn't know what else to do about it.

Erik felt a small hand press against his back and he shivered, wincing at the scars she pressed into. He gently breathed, moving her hand because he knew she had no idea about the scars and he wanted to keep it that way, "Good morning, _petite ange._ I thought you'd never wake up."

"Erik, I," she paused, starting at the open part of his shirt with tears brimming her eyes, "What's this?"

"Oh," he fastened the upper buttons of his shirt, "nothing you need to worry about."

She let the brimming tears roll down her cheeks, holding a hand under her nose, "I worry about you, Erik. You're very secretive and you seemed pain a lot. I just want-"

"Me to be happy?" she nodded, "That's what my mother said before I...Christine, you probably wouldn't understand my situation, considering how beautiful you are and how you will never have to deal with this. I have seen ugliness, betrayal, hatred, anger, pain, and grief rear their nasty heads in my life all the time. Never once have I ever experienced a positive emotion until I first saw you. And even then you stomped on my heart and soul. I don't know if I'm even capable of feeling happiness as long as people like you are here to take it away from me."

She bit her lip, looking down at his shoes - at the shine of the leather, "Erik, I am truly sorry for what I've done. I didn't know it would damage us."

"It didn't damage you. I just don't think you're truly sorry for what you've done. And even if you were...I don't know if I could forgive you yet."

"So," she stepped away, looking at his bare hands, "you don't love me anymore?"

"Oh, don't say that. Never say that. Christine, I'll never stop loving you, but you cut me deep. I'm still raw from heartache."

"Erik, I...I never knew you hurt that much."

"Just because I am ugly means I can't feel? I have these things before, Christine. Just leave me be."

"Erik-"

"Stop speaking my name!" he yelled in a voice so deep it made her shiver, "Just go. Before I lose my temper further."

Erik took a deep breath, wishing so much to be able to control himself for Christine. He sat beside a chair his mother used to sit in, propping his head on the arm. Erik felt her hand again lay softly on his neck and he shook hard, trying to cool down the demon inside, "Oh, Christine. Why must you torment me with your gentle touches?"

"I just," she let go, "I'm sorry. I'll leave you now."

Erik grabbed her hand, then stood up, "You shouldn't touch me with care. I'm evil, remember? I'll kill you the first chance I get."

"I don't think you're as terrible as you lead yourself on to be," she took off his mask, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek, "I think all you need is the love you've never received."


	22. Discovering Her Sensuality

**A/N: Brace yourself for a little hotness here. It might get a tad 'steamy'. Anyways, please review if you can.**

 **Chapter Twenty-two - Discovering Her Sensuality**

Christine wandered towards the bathroom with a nightgown Erik had left her on the foot of the bed. She opened the door and saw him, stretching, without a shirt. She blushed scarlet, for it was the most she had seen of a man in her lifetime even though he had his back turned to her. She almost cried at how many scars he bared, but was focused too much on his powerful shoulders and his muscles that moved in such syncopation. She gulped, but felt compelled to scoot a little closer to him.

Erik turned at her footsteps, picking up his towel and rubbing his hair, "How much have you seen of me, Christine?"

She turned to the mirror and noted her bright pink cheeks, grinning, "I only saw your back. But it was enough."

He smiled, setting her nightgown on the counter for her, "I drew you a bath. Figured as much you'd want to cleanse yourself after how much I touched you yesterday."

She nodded, knowing that arguing with him now would only further his insecurities.

Erik left Christine to her privacy, focusing instead at the letter he received from his old acquaintance a few hours ago. He read, "My old friend Erik: I know how much you need to travel to the New World, so I made arrangements with my father, who is an old fisherman, to take you there. He says to meet him at the dock during midnight on the first of January."

Erik threw the paper at the end of the desk, aggravated at the time span between now and January. He paced down the hallway, thinking about what to do to take up time. He knew he would have to marry Christine to secure her loyalty, but that left another thirteen days open for nothing.

Erik stopped moving once Christine was out of the bathroom, staring mindlessly at her chest. He lost all thought when he saw the outline of her two breasts, each topped with a nub of pink. Her wet hair made it worse as the water droplets ran down her nightgown and caused the entire article covering her chest to become soaked with the water from her hair. She looked innocently at Erik, "What's wrong?"

Erik continued staring at her chest, feeling the attraction start to wake him up. He approached her in one swift motion, wrapping his arms around her waist and crushing her lips with a kiss. She seemed to keen into his mouth, action accepting his embrace with passion as she was pushed against the wall. He ran his hand up to meet a pink nub awaiting attention. She moaned at his touch and pressed herself into him, nodding and hoping, for some odd reason, that he would continue.

Erik growled deep, leaving her against the wall with desire and lust as the only things keeping her from losing her grip, "Did I do something?"

He glared at her through eyes glazed over with desire, wishing that she was truly ready, "Desire is a powerful demon, isn't it? It makes you do the dumbest things and yet...it's also what made us."

Christine shivered, sliding onto the ground and looking up at him with her beautiful, innocent gaze, "I didn't know you could make me feel that way. I thought I had to wait until marriage to feel something so magical."

Erik sighed, "Your body is still active before marriage, Christine. It's just not allowed," she gazed at him with something so foreign, her pupils dilated and she smiled with a bright blush coloring her cheeks, "Stop looking at me like that, Christine. I'm not someone to be lusted over."


	23. Coming Undone

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait on this update. By the way, for those who don't wish to read, this chapter will contain a graphic episode between the two. I will put in a warning when it happens so you can skip it. Either way, enjoy :)**

 _ **Erik: Hopeful Soul - Chapter Twenty-Three**_

Christine, unaware of Erik's gaze, began making the bed. It was around the twentieth hour and, considering she hadn't seen him all day, she assumed he either wanted to be alone or just wanted to work on something. She sighed at her work and turned around to find his gaze in her direction. She shifted a bit, straightening her shoulders, "Lacking interaction, Christine?"

She shook her head, "I just...just needed something to do."

"Sure," he grinned slyly, making her wonder what he thought about, "Come. I have something I want to speak with you about."

Christine swallowed any fears she might have had and followed him out of the bedroom. He led her to the back of the house where a large apple tree stood beside the ever-present glow of the moon. She suddenly realized how handsome he looked under the moonlight, the glow in his eyes blending into the brightness of the natural light. When he faced her, he took off his mask, smoothing over the creases on the inside, "What was it you wanted to speak about?" she asked hesitantly.

He smiled in possibly the most genuine way she had ever seen and he seemed, for once, at peace with himself, "It's mostly about what happened last night. I am dearly sorry that I couldn't control myself. Years of suppressed natural urges can get to a person."

"I didn't really have any issues with it."

He smiled again, placing the mask back on and gently stroking her cheek. She leaned into his hand, but he then slowly drifted apart; staring at her with those eyes that made her every nerve tingle, "You right all the wrongs in my life just by smiling, Christine."

She grinned for him, but it went away when she remembered what she saw yesterday. The many scars on his back - possibly even other places of his body, "If you don't mind me asking, how did you get so many scars on your back?"

He was also more stern, now glaring at ground between them, "I really wish you wouldn't have asked."

"You don't have to tell me."

"No, I do. You deserve to know," he kissed her cheek, then unlaced his dress-shirt and pulled it up over his head to expose the scars of his past. Christine gently touched each one on his chest, their rugged texture making her cry, "When I was three my mother sold me to a gypsy camp where I was the main attraction. The crowd thought it was hilarious for me to be beaten and I scars on other places of my body that I really wish I didn't know the story to. I can't explain those, though."

Christine outlined each rugged scar with gentle fingertips, watching as he flinched under her pressure, "Am I hurting?"

"No," he touched the smooth skin of her neck, each scar she touched reminding him of the past, "you're unbelievably gentle. I just never thought anyone would be able to touch me so lovingly."

"Why is that so?"

"All of my life I've been told no one could ever love a man so hideous as myself. But even so," he gently grabbed each of her hands, bringing each to his lips for a kiss, "after all that happened at the opera house, I'm not sure if you love me or pity me."

She wanted to say that she loved him, but not even she understood her feelings. She knew she felt her heart beat fast whenever he touched her. She knew it made her happy whenever he said those three magic words to her, but she just didn't know if she reciprocated yet, "My guess is you probably don't even know your feelings. But I know this," he gently grabbed each of her cheeks and tilted her head up to face him directly as he came dangerously close to her, his naked torso against the silk cloth of her gown, "I love you. The first time I laid eyes on you I knew we had to meet. I knew that you could reverse the negatives in my life with something as simple as a smile and a gentle caress. You are the heaven I won't be going to."

His words left her speechless, making her think truly of him. She didn't know how to respond, "You knew all this from one glance?"

"Yes. You made me smile. No one has ever done that. No one has ever given such a strong first impression. And I've met a lot of people in my lifetime."

She felt like his entire world. That if she died somehow he would have nothing and would probably die with her, "Erik, to think you care that much for me is...is such a beautiful thought. I practically worshipped the ground you walk on."

He smiled, gently running his fingers through her curls, "You're saying things I've only ever dreamt someone would say to me. I never expected so much kindness, Christine."

She smiled, running her fingers through his hair which was rougher than expected. He gently pulled her in for a kiss, using his other arm to pull her close by the waist as he cradled her head with his hand. Christine sighed into his mouth, releasing his lips and pulling him in tighter for a hug. Erik snuggled into the curly nest of her hair, letting her do what she pleased as she ran her gentle fingertips over the scars on his back. He smiled knowing that he received things everyone always said he was incapable of having - love and affection.

Christine let go for a moment, kissed the very top of his head, then went inside. Erik felt his heart beat fast, something which only occurred whenever he felt her. It left him wanting more and he knew, after she had said all that, she was ready - whether she wanted to admit it or not.

He picked up his shirt and went inside as well, waiting a few minutes outside the bedroom door. Christine did the last few bows on the front of her nightgown, undoing her hair. It's soft, curled fibers cascaded like a waterfall down her back and she smiled, touching the same strands of hair that Erik had. The door flew open and he ran to her, attacking her with a powerful kiss. She returned his power, her hands roaming over his body as he did the same - touching her with such gentality, though.

He carried her towards the bed, her body softly landing upon the mattress. Erik let stopped his touch, releasing her lips as well. Both were panting, as they felt the heat overtake them, "I'm so sorry, Christine. I should have refused my urges."

"Don't be sorry. If you want me that much, you may have me," his eyes widened, knowing the last time someone saw him so exposed was when Javert...he shook his head, clearing that disgusting man out of his head, "Are you afraid to expose yourself?"

He nodded, slowly moving away from her. Erik wished he could have her, but to be exposed in such a way was new and strange to him. He hadn't even expected to be kissed let alone ever have a woman willing to be bed, "Erik?"

He turned to realize that Christine was behind him. She smiled, stroking his arm very softly, "Would it make you feel better if I was exposed first?"

Erik didn't know what to say, suddenly feeling tight in the chest. She smiled at him with such love in her eyes, making him forget that his urges were ever wrong. He reminded himself that she was willing, that maybe she even wanted this to happen - but he also knew she was a virgin and it would hurt her, "I don't want you to do anything you'll regret."

"Why would I regret being bed by the man I love?"

He smiled, "You love me?"

"Have I not said it enough?" he was so happy that it was childlike, "Now, my first question."

"If you don't mind, may I, erm," she smiled at his speechlessness, grabbing each of his hands and guiding him to bed with her.

"You want to undress me?"

He nodded, "May I?"

Christine was so gentle that the whole situation was almost unbelievable to him. She raised her arms above her head as he untied each lace bow on the front of her nightgown, which he pulled off to discover nothing underneath but her. He froze, in complete of what she looked like. He remembered seeing women in several states of undress around the opera, but none were as lovely as she was. To him, she was the definition of perfection - the epitome of femininity. And the way she blushed so deep when he saw her made him feel much better about all of their encounter.

* * *

 **CAUTION: SEXUALITY AHEAD!**

* * *

He threw her nightgown to the floor, taking a moment to admire her perfect body. Her womanly curves, the soft skin of each bosom, and the triangle of curls down below. Christine smiled, playing with the waistband of his trousers. He helped out, rolling the fabric off his thighs, down his legs, and to the floor. She pulled down his drawers, then sat up and held him against her bare chest, the scars a new feeling to her skin.

He let go to remove his drawers, then gently moved her to the head of the bed. Christine roamed his chest for a minute, inhaling his strong scent. He smiled, sweetly kissing her, then started touching. Her skin was smooth, compared to his 'hide', and as his cool palms rested on the peaks of her breasts. She smiled, enjoying his touch with every small caress he gave.

Erik balanced his weight on his forearms, making a trail of kisses from her neck down to her breasts. He carefully sucked on each erect nub, then left her skin for a moment as she anxiously awaited his next move. He kissed her lips, then started making another layer of kisses going down towards an area she let no one ever see. She was open for him, even though her legs shook violently due to her nervous state. He gently placed his hands on the inside of her thighs, feeling her shake even further, "You don't have to worry, ange. This won't hurt. Trust me."

She sighed unevenly, nodding her head as he dove between her legs. His cool breath made her shake even more, this time with a sensation so foreign to her. Christine let out a noise as his tongue softly grazed her pink folds of flesh, her hands grasping the blankets beside her. She bucked her hips to the rhythm of his tongue, bending down to touch him in return. He gasped at her contact, grabbing her hand and gently shifting it in vertical motions as he continued to please her.

Christine caught on fast, continuing the motions. He let out an animalistic groan that made her shiver and also repeat the same noise in a higher pitch as if vibrated her sex. She moaned as she approached the edge of something so good that it had to be sinful, hearing his deep voice only making it worse. She gasped as she was brought to finish, letting go of his member and holding herself to him to cool down.

Erik kissed her, then set her down beneath him, "We aren't done yet. But I can stop if you want me to. This is your last chance."

Christine sighed heavily, holding each of his hands as he laid beside her, "I...I can't," she shook her head, "don't stop. Please."

It was enough to kiss her, enough to even share a bed with her, but to have practically begging him for more almost brought him over the edge. Erik smiled, kissed her, then readied himself at her entrance. She shivered, still experiencing the high from her previous climax, and Erik knew it would help her get through what was to come faster. He probed her at first, very gently, then tore into her fast - which made grab onto him tight for support.

He kissed away her tears, wiping them very gently with the edges of his fingers. She let go, urging him to began their dance. He used soft force with her carefully thrusting within her. She groaned at this other new and different sensation, feeling as if she were floating on a cloud of ecstasy. His disjointed movements made her shake, bringing her to heights once again.

He shook, trying to hold in longer as Christine approached finish again. He groaned, seeing if it was alright, "Christine, please...I need-"

"It's alright," she smiled, gently stroking his head. She removed his mask, set it beside her, and kissed his deformed cheek, "come with me."

He smiled, giving three final, strong thrusts as they finished together. She sealed her lips to his, feeling his heavy, irregular heartbeat as he fell to her side, holding her to him like a child.

* * *

 **END OF SEXUAL SCENE!**

* * *

Erik held her carefully, as if she was fragile and would break at any instant. She smiled, kissing him sweetly and then staring into his eyes. He seemed serene, seemed almost normal for once, "Did I ever tell you how much you mean to me?"

"Yes," Christine touched his face, each hollow, each swell, each scar. Everything as if he was child.

"You make me feel normal. When I'm with you, I'm no longer just the ugly man with a bad past. I have you," he was so happy that it was adorable, "You're what's been missing in my life all along."


	24. Dramatic Reveal

**_Erik: Hopeful Soul - Chapter Twenty-four_**

After the wedding was a boat ride from France to the New World, where they would spend a night in an apartment before finally moving into the new lot Erik had bought. The lot was a lovely two-story home with four bedrooms, two bathing rooms, an empty space Erik would surely fill will musical objects, and a decent-sized kitchen and dining room.

It would be every other night that he would join her in a special dance she called lovemaking - in which she made him feel secure and loved every time it happened. Christine, though, was experiencing some terrible symptoms of nasaeu and vomiting after a few and didn't know the cause. She knew that she couldn't be to terribly ill, especially since she hadn't been outdoors in a few weeks.

She thought it might be good to visit a physician. Since Erik was out getting a piano and the physicians office was a block down the road, she found it to be a good time to get checked out.

Inside the place, where she waited in a rather uncomfortable chair, the physician guided her into a room with a strange table, which he told her to lay on. She did as she was instructed, then waited as he gathered some paper into a board and grabbed a pencil. He was a gentleman, "So, strange symptoms, huh? How many times do you have intercourse with your husband?"

"Almost every other day."

"Mmhm," he quickly wrote something onto the paper, which he then sat down as he gently parted her legs, "I am going to inspect you for other symptoms you may not see. You may have a disease."

Christine was worried. If she had a disease, then so did Erik, and she didn't want to be responsible for getting him sick as well. She heard him laugh, then he wrote down a few things again, "When was your first time?"

"A couple months ago."

"Alright, dear," he placed the board on the table as she sat up, straightening her skirts, "nothing is wrong with you. You're just expecting."

"Expecting?!" she perked.

"Yes. You know, with child. I'm sure your husband will be happy for you," Christine couldn't be more excited in her entire life. Although she would later have to deal with the pain of giving childbirth, it would be all worth to see her baby's happy face, "Hopefuly you'll send for me when the baby is on its way. I haven't been much service to anyone lately."

"I'm sure someone will fetch you," she smiled standing beside the table with a whole new look on life, "Thank you so much. Oh, I can't wait!"

"I thought I'd let you know you have about seven months until your child is due. Just make sure you eat about one-fourth more than usual."

She nodded, rushing out the door very excitedly to share the news with Erik.

* * *

Christine waited patiently in the music room as a piano was being rolled in. She stared at the chandelier, wondering where Erik could have gone that took him so long. The men that delivered the instrument left as soon as they came and she sighed, poking her head outside the doorway and gazing at the front door that remained shut.

She stepped back into the music room, grazing her fingertips over the fresh keys of the piano until she heard the front door slam. Christine smiled and rushed towards the sound, but found Erik busy as he carried staff paper towards the room. He set it on the piano bench and she rushed to him, wrapping her arms around his waist and kissing him stronger than she ever had before.

He smiled, leaning into her and gently stroking her back. She released, gasping for air, "You're friendly today. Is there something you want?"

She grinned wide, gently caressing his shoulders, "Erik, I went to the physician today and I have some very good news."

"A physician?"

"Erik, we're having a baby!"

He lost his smile, gently pushing her aside. He suddenly remembered his childhood; how his mother sold him to the gypsy camp and every friend he ever made turned their backs on him. He shook his head, "No, no, no. Christine, please tell me you're lying. Say you've been having relations with other men, but I beg you, let me know this isn't my child!"

Christine looked at him with pity now, wondering why he was so against the idea of having children with her, "I...I thought you'd be happy."

"Christine, I can't let what happened to me happen to another innocent child. Yes, above all else, I would love to have children. Especially with you. But to curse a child with," in one swift motion he unmasked himself, motioning the the snarl of his face, "this. That's beyond cruelty. It's inconceivable. It's an abomination!"

"Erik, please-"

"Save your breath, Christine."

"Erik, you were the one who made me feel so good in the first place! Why couldn't you have just suppressed your urges?!"

He inhaled deeply, straightening until he practically towered over her, "How am I supposed to suppress myself in front of such beauty!? In case you didn't know, I have suppressed myself from this my entire life. It's my fault you gave willingly. Now you have that monster inside you."

She gasped, backing away from him, "You're a fool, Erik. To call your child that word is to call you worse. For all you know the child could be as intelligent as you usually are and could the musical genius of the century. I am not your mother. I wouldn't dare give up a child even if it did have your face."


	25. Pregnancy Has Its Ways

**A/N: Sorry I took so long, everyone. But stay patient, here's another chapter.**

 _ **Erik: Hopeful Soul - Chapter Twenty-five**_

The months dragged on, very lonely and quiet for Christine. Sure, the occasional kick of the child within her made her stir and smile, but Erik wasn't a place in sight during the action.

He spent most of his time in the music room, trying to forget the ever-so obvious mistake he had made. Erik knew he should have suppressed himself; that he should have stayed away from her beauty to not cause an accident so life-changing. But when one so pushed away from such contact has the opportunity for it, it was almost idiotic of him not to take the opportunity even though he shamed himself deeply.

Erik wrote softly on the staff, finding himself crying now for no apparent reason - even though he knew why he did cry. He read something as Christine started getting bigger that the child inside at this stage would start to move. It was official that this being was alive and felt terrible for not overcoming his fears and just becoming a good father.

Erik hated to admit, but he always wanted a child ever since he saw the group of boys outside the opera house one day. They were of very young ages and their innocence and pure hearts intrigued him. He shook out the thoughts, though. Knowing it would be cruel to punish a child with his façade because of the shunning from society the child would receive.

He stood, quietly clasping the folder together. From a distance, he saw Christine laying on the sofa with her hand on her lower abdomen as she weakly smiled at the swell. Erik felt like a terrible person - especially for not being there as much as she'd have hoped.

He quietly strode to the sofa, watching as she shifted a bit where she was. Her gaze made him feel uneasy as she looked to him with tears starting to form at the corners of her eyes, "Have you come to tell me more of our so-called burden of a child?" she asked with a slight rasp.

"No," Erik sat at the edge of the sofa, replacing her feet on his lap, "I came to apologize to you. What I've been doing isn't right and the only this...this child will ever know kindness is if his parents are the ones to show it. I know I've been anything but kind and I want to make it up."

"Erik, I thought you said children were filthy. That they are nothing more than harsh burdens."

"I'll tell you the truth, Christine," Erik scooted closer, which made her sit in his lap - back against the arm, "I have always wanted a child. Ever since I was eighteen I have wanted to know the joys of parenthood. I cherish pure heart and innocence of children so much. How they are free of bias and will absorb anyone's words. I just adore that. And I am deeply sorry for not accepting this child. Especially a child made with the woman I love beyond all reason. Can you find it in your heart to forgive me?"

Christine gently rested her hand on his chest, feeling his gently pumping heart, "I forgive you for ignoring me. But I can never forgive you for discarding our child," she removed her hand and rested her head there instead, breathing evenly, "I find adorable how much you say you want a child."

"I do, though," Erik said gently stroking through her hair, "You believe me when I say so, don't you?"

"I do. But with how many times you've-" Christine sighed, lifting her head away from his chest as she felt a strong kick - then pressing on the area it came from.

Erik stared at her hand, wishing for some reason that he could be allowed to touch the swell. He bit his lip, then returned to her eyes as she weakly smiled at him, "Do you want to feel?"

Erik smiled, nodding. Christine took his hand and put it over the spot where the baby kicked the most. The child seemed to know who was there, as a gentle rhythm of kicks tapped Erik's hand. He grinned, kissing her belly, "Does it hurt you?"

"It tickles a bit, but no."

Erik rubbed there as the baby slowed down, the kicking fading away. He let go, taking a moment to look into Christine's eyes as she went deep in her mind, "What are you thinking of, mon ange?"

"The very thing you dread," he was curious, but he realized her reluctancy to say anything more, "I think I could use some rest. After all, the child will come in just two weeks."

Erik watched her ease towards their bedroom, holding the wall for support, "Would you like me to hold you, Christine?"

She said nothing, so he stood, went to her and heaved her into his arms. It reminded him of the very first time he did this. The first time he was ever close to a woman. As he gently laid her in bed, he rid of his shoes, trousers and shirt, then laid beside her.

Christine seemed to ease into him, her head a small weight upon his chest. He brought the blankets up to their shoulders, gently stroking her head now. Christine sighed, wrapping her small arms around his torso. He almost forgot how to be loved he avoided her so much. And he missed it quite a bit. He missed the warm feeling in his chest whenever she snuggled him and now knew he would have to be better to her and the child - as much as his mind told him not to.


	26. Beautiful Boy

_**Erik: Hopeful Soul - Chapter Twenty-Six**_

Christine, nearing her last few days of pregnancy, woke up in the early in a cold sweat from her nightmare. She took deep breaths to calm herself down, then midwife coming in to check on her, "Is everything alright, Madame?"

Christine turned to the left and noticed that Erik was nowhere in sight, feeling the tears come to her eyes. He knew she was due soon and that made her heart break even more, "Where's my husband?"

The midwife nodded, gently bowing her head, "Monsieur said that he would be out on errands for the day and might not return til tomorrow. I have to run some things as well, so will you be alright alone?"

Christine felt the tears start to run down her cheeks and didn't care if she saw them, "I suppose."

"Alright."

Christine watched as the little woman walked hurriedly towards the front door of the house, then gently holding her stomach. She stood up and ignored the sharp pain in her side, shuffling towards the bassinet to balance herself. She took deep breaths to get through the small pains, only they moved from her sides to her core. Each step she took weighed on her as she sunk back into her bed messily, crying because of everything - the pains, the fact that her husband left her for the day, that she had no one to rely on - it was all a depressing mess.

She breathed through the pains, trying to convince herself that they would go away like the others always did - only in this case they stayed longer and became stronger as time passed on. Christine bit her lip, trying to keep in the cry she would have let out. She heard the door open and let a searing sound rip through her vocal chords, the little midwife rushing in conveniently with the physician. The gentle man touched her head as she shivered through each strong, painful, lasting contraction, "Where's her husband?" he whispered to the midwife.

"Out on errands, sir."

"Well, looks like she's about to enter the second stage. Get me two bowls of hot water, three towels and some scissors."

"Aye, sir."

"Well, little woman," he said sitting beside Christine, "looks like you're having a child early."

Christine took a deep breath, covering her eyes as she felt something wet trickle down her thighs. She screamed as the worst pain she ever felt tore through her insides, the midwife running in with supplies. Christine opened her eyes wide, staring at the ceiling for comfort she wouldn't be receiving from Erik today.

She took deep breaths as they placed two towels underneath her, hiking up her skirts, and one on her chest. Christine felt a solid structure start to push around inside, knowing that the child would soon arrive. She watched the midwife cleanse the scissors and felt another strong round of contractions as she tried to push the being out of herself. Christine felt hopeless and lost, wishing that she had someone special to hold her and comfort her through this - her father, if he was alive, she knew would be ideal. But now, with nothing other than a husband who tries his 'best', she had let the fantasy go and embrace hardcore reality.

Christine hoped her fate wasn't identical to her mother's in which she died giving birth. She would at least want to be there to hear her offspring speak. Suddenly, along with a clear splashing sound, she felt the solid form practically explode from her body. The midwife placed this messy blob on her chest and once the bloody figure was dried, Christine was face to face with her child.

It was much more beautiful then she would have thought, getting to see her child. She imagined that it was just regular. That when she saw the little bundle she would look at it as nothing more than a baby - nothing more than a weak, defenseless little human. It was much more, she soon realized. This thing, this child was something she had carried within herself for nine months, something that shared her space, her food, and her life, and something which resembled all that was pure and good in her life, "It's a boy," the physician proclaimed with a smile.

Christine was a happy mother as she stared at her son's beautiful, full cheeks that bore no scars. She knew that if Erik had been here, he would hopefully share the same tears she did over her boy. She smiled with exhaustion, softly rubbing the crying infants button nose. The midwife took small rags and gently wiped the baby clean as he was on her chest, Christine taking a deep, solemn sigh, "Your name for him?"

Christine smiled, "Gustav. Gustav Gautier."

"Excellent choice."

Christine took a deep breath, accepting help as the midwife taught her how to nurse the infant. She caught quick and the midwife was finished, cleaning up the mess of bloodied towels, bowls of red water and ruined scissors. Christine held her boy as he suckled and sunk her head further into the pillow as she laid onto her side. She was happy with this - happy with her child who she knew was now the only being she could truly trust.

* * *

Erik came in the next, exhausted from the entire day's bombardment of chores and errands that must have been run. He set two bags, one of bread and dairy and one of greens, inside the kitchen and heard faint crying - knowing something either went wrong or the little monster was finally born. He dreaded both, walking into the bedroom with an attitude not even he fully understood.

He saw Christine gently shushing a white ball of cloth and knew that option two had to be the reason for the crying, "So the little monster was born at last?"

"Erik, please, you need to-"

"No, Christine. His life will be a clone of mine. I can't believe you went this far already. You should have gotten rid of him when you had the chance."

"Erik, I'm begging you, come see-"

"Christine, seeing the ugly child will not-"

"Erik Gautier!" Christine gawked at the harshest voice she had ever used, taking a gulp to contain herself as she grabbed each of his wrists, "Please, just look at him."

Erik was stubborn as she dragged him to the bassinet, "No matter what he'll still be doomed. No matter how-"

Erik ceased, looking down at the round-face boy in the bassinet. His rosy cheeks, his tiny round nose, his full, pink lips - the epitome of perfection. Erik finally felt himself come undone - he thought it had happened when Christine revealed she truly loved him, but this was the icing on the cake. He fell to his knees, feeling the steady stream of tears come to his eyes. Everything he had done, he now realized, all led to this moment, "Oh, Christine," he bawled, holding her legs tightly, "forgive me, my angel. I have wronged you. Not only have I done that, but you have given me the most beautiful son in return for all that. I don't deserve this. Not him, not you, not anything. I apologize. I-"

"Erik," Christine smiled, "it's alright. All that matters is that you're here now."

"Oh, I'll be here forever! I promise," he gently kissed her hand, "I am your humble servant."

Christine smiled, standing him up as she cradled Gustav into her arms, "Well, new father," she said, holding out Gustav, "would you like to meet your son?"

Erik gulped, nodding as she set the warm boy into his arms. He looked down as the little creature peered at him through blurry blues, smiling at his tiny gaping mouth, "He- he is so gorgeous."

"His name is Gustav."

"Gustav," Erik smiled, turning to her with confusion, "isn't that your father's name?"

"Yes."

"You," he laughed, kissing the boy's pink cheek, "you would name my child after your father?"

"Why not?" Christine smiled, hugging him tightly, "It suits him well, anyway."

Erik felt all of the joy in the world. Every bad thing that happened suddenly became history and he knew there would be many more beautiful, peaceful moments like this to come. He anticipated every one of them with delight as he looked upon his infants face. Erik was now, at last, at a state of peace with himself and the world.

 **A/N: The end! How'd you like it? Any recommendations for another story? I will gladly follow through. If you get bored, check out my other story called Symphonie pour Amour.**


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